


The Savior of the Durin line

by WhoIsJohnnyRay



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adorable Kíli, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual courting, First Crush, First Kiss, Flustered Hobbits, Homelessness, M/M, Might get mature later, Non-existant Debts, Protectiveness, Screwing up all the time lines, Unknown Identity, conflicting desires, culture clash, implied prostitution, making everything up as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 36,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoIsJohnnyRay/pseuds/WhoIsJohnnyRay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo's father had always told him never to talk to strangers, much less invite them into the house, that's probably how he found himself inviting a starving dwarf, that had just quite literally walked into town, and his nephews over for supper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Traveling Smith

**Author's Note:**

> As you'll soon find out I completely butchered the time lines. Also this story doesn't have a Beta, so feel free to blame me for all the nonsensical parts, and typos.

It was cold. Thorin could feel the frost biting at his toes through the holes in his boots, and the wind blowing through the once royal attire that had its rich cloth worn thin. He had sent himself ahead, traveling through the night to look for the town nearby.

If he walked with a limp, and warped his coat tighter around himself in a futile attempt to contain body heat no one was around to see.

He pulled a ragged map from one of his pockets, unfolding the parchment with trembling fingers. It said that the Shire town of Hobbiton was to be right where he was standing.

Thorin pushed the heels of his hands in his eyes, and groaned.

Mahal help me, he thought, don't let my people, my family, starve to death because of me.

The prince's head shot up from his hands when he heard faint bustling chatter in the distance. The tell tales signs of a market.

He continued along the path, hobbling as fast as his blistered feet would allow him, and then faster still. Until he reached the home of the Hobbits, their small, stout, statures going about set routines.

When the smell of freshly baked seed cake wafted through the air Thorin became painfully aware of his stabbing hunger.

He had just made his way into the market when he heard soft foot fall coming towards him. His now homeless title doing nothing to dull his senses as a skilled warrior.

"Are you hungry?" A voice said, sounding genuinely concerned.

Thorin turned to find a young hobbit, with his honey brown hair in tight curls, and a basket of slightly steaming seed cakes in his hands. He was obviously quite well off, probably had never even known what it was like to go without even a single a meal. It made Thorin instantly detest this hobbit.

"I am not, Master Hobbit." Thorin lied, and if on cue his stomach growled.

He cursed inwardly at the bad timing. The hobbit huffed in response, tossing a seed cake from the basket at Thorin who easily caught it, between dirt caked hands.

"I have no coin to pay for this." Thorin stepped forward, making to give the cake back.

"Then accept it as a gift." The Hobbit said with a slight shrug.

Thorin stared at the Hobbit, looking for any kind of scorn at the loss of one of his seed cakes, but after finding none he took a bite.

"Thorin Oakenshield, at your service." He said between a mouthful of delicious seed cake, with a small nod.

"Bilbo Baggins, at yours." Bilbo said, looking the Dwarf over.

Thorin felt the need the stand taller, under the gaze of the Hobbit, but continued to take large bites from the small cake anyway.

"I thank you for your kindness, Master Baggins." Thorin said after the last crumb of cake was eaten

"Not a problem, not a problem." The hobbit said, a youthful half-smile on his face. "So, what brings you to Hobbiton?"

Thorin faltered at the question. What was he doing in Hobbiton? These gentle creatures didn't not need the weapons of a smith. They had no mines for the miners to work, had no enemies for this land to need the help of great dwarfish warriors.

"I come in search of work, to provide for my sister and her two sons." Thorin said, only a hint of hesitation making its way into his voice.

Bilbo's face brightened at the news.

"Mister Thorin, if you are in need of work our little town has been in desperate need of a smith to make and fix tools. You wouldn't happen to be interested, would you?"

Thorin could feel the weight on his chest shift.

"Yes, Master Baggins, I would be very much interested in working the forge. I have trained for many years in the art of metal work."

"Bilbo, please." The young hobbit said. "And if you have no place to stay the night Bag End will be open to you, as well as your sister and nephew."

Thorin gave a curt sharp nod, not exactly knowing what a "Bag End" was.

"My home. Big green door, you won't miss it." The hobbit stated, "Well, I'll be off then." He adjusted the basket in his hands before hurrying off to finish his business in town.

The moment the Hobbit had turned around Thorin sucked the seed cake crumbs from his fingers, more than a little ashamed at what the once proud prince of Erebor was reduced to.

-/:\\-

Bilbo could practically hear his mother cheering him on from the afterlife, as he nervously made his way towards the dwarf that had just entered the town.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, instantly wanting to scold himself over his own lack of manners, and the nervous way his voice sounded.

"I am not, Master Hobbit." Bilbo nearly fainted at hearing such a deep voice, and almost nearly laughed at the disagreement of the Dwarrows stomach. He tried to cover up the laugh with a forced huff, and tossed a seed cake from his basket to the dwarf.

"I have no coin to pay for this." The Dwarf said, looking almost as if he were in pain when he tried to hand it back.

"Then accept it as a gift." Bilbo shrugged, hoping desperately that his own pained expression kept off of his face.

For being a quite well to do hobbit Bilbo Baggins knew the signs of someone desperate for something to eat. He had see it in everyone during the last Winter, Fell Winter. The hobbits were starving, terrified of the wolves entering the Shire from across the frozen Brandy Bay. How weak his own parents were, and how they had not been able to hold off the wolves.

He was brought out of his musing when the Dwarf took a sudden bite out of the cake.

"Thorin Oakenshield, at your service." The Dwarf said, with a nod, and half a mouthful of seed cake.

"Bilbo Baggins, at yours." Bilbo said, just noticing how loose the Dwarrow's clothes hung around his body.

Thorin had finished the cake, and Bilbo half expected him to suck the crumbs off of his fingers when he said, "I thank you for your kindness, Master Baggins."

Bilbo was taken aback by this, surely this Dwarf haven't been so mistreated that being given a measly seed cake was a kindness?

"Not a problem, not a problem." He heard himself say, then attempted a smile, but was sure it came along as a grimace. "So, what brings you to Hobbiton?"

There was a long silence that Bilbo was, sure he had crossed some kind of line. He almost had his apology ready for peering into this strangers personal life when the deep, rumbling reply came.

"I come in search of work, to provide for my sister and her two sons."

Children? A two children, and their mother, starving out here? No sir, not if Bilbo Baggings had anything to say about it. Bilbo tried to smile more gently this time, instead of his last forced grimace.

"Mister Thorin, if you are in need of work our little town has been in desperate need of a smith to make and fix tools. You wouldn't happen to be interested, would you?"

Bilbo could instantly see the way the Dwarrows shoulders slumped slightly, as if some great burden had been lifted off his shoulders by his words.

"Yes, Master Baggins, I would be very much interested in working the forge. I have trained for many years in the art of metal work."

"Bilbo, please." Bilbo said, an idea turning inside his head. "And if you have no place to stay the night Bag End will be open to you, as well as your sister and nephews."

Even though Thorin nodded Bilbo could see his confusion in the straight line of his mouth.

"My home. Big green door, you won't miss it." He stated, he finally began feeling the strain on his arms from the overloaded basket. "Well, I'll be off then." Bilbo adjusted the weight of the basket in his hands, hurrying off into the market to buy some fresh ingredients for tonight's meal. He would need it if he was going to have a family of Dwarrows at his supper table tonight.

-/:\\-

"No, Uncle Thorin." Fili said, a fierce look in his eyes as he spoke.

Kili stood by his side, looking between his Uncle and his brother. Kili had not uttered a word in awhile now, which caused both of them great concern, but his uncle just seemed content filling the silence with loud arguing. Kili didn't both actually listening to this particular conversation.

It was probably about food, it was usually about food, ever since they had to leave home.

"Fili, this Hobbit has offered us a place to sleep for the night, as well as a job in the forge." Thorin could not understand why his sister's son refused to take the offered housing. It would save little Kili who would probably not last another night outside, as winter quickly approached, and biting winds torn through the hill covered lands as the sun fell.

"This "Bilbo Baggins" takes you for a lowly wench, offering us all a night of housing in exchange for your services." He all but spat. "I will not allow you to stoop to such a level."

Thorin swallowed, he had not even thought of that as a possibility. "He does not seem the type to-"

"And what do you suppose one would look like?" He stepped closer to him, putting an arm around Kili, still trying to coax his brother into speech, anything other then the hours of hopeless silence he had received. "Have you not seen the Men who have taken are kin for cheap copper coins? Did that not seem like the type?"

Thorin knew there was truth in his words, the villages of Men had come across as friendly, wanting to help their Dwarvish neighbors in their hour of need. The hospitality had ended the next morning when the Men had taken what they wanted from the Dwarrows, and sent them on their way.

"Kili will not last another night." Thorin stated simply, eyes dropping to the floor. "If offering my body to a hobbit for the night is what it takes to save him I will do it."

Fili nodded solemnly, regret clear on his features.

"Fe?" Kili asked, still using the childish name in his older years. "Is everything going to be alright?"

"Yes, little brother, everythings going to be just fine, thanks to Uncle Thorin."

"Thank you, Uncle Thorin." Kili's face brightened, strands of loose dark hair falling into his eyes.

-/:\\-

Bag End was a utter mess in the eyes of its inhabiting hobbit. His guest rooms had developed a coating of fine dusted that needed to be wiped clean, the kitchen was still unorganized from this mornings Elevenses, the dishes still in the sink, the floor needed sweeping, all rooms needed to be presentable, and their was still the need to cook a nice Dinner, and well as an excellent Supper in case they arrived late. Yes, a lot to do.

Bilbo began to work, first making breads, and baked desserts so while they baked he could clean the guest rooms, and the floor. He prepared a roast, and fried fish caught freshly this morning, as well as did the dishes. He mixed greens to make a salad, and fried vegetables. He hardly noticed he had forgot about Afternoon Tea. Speaking of tea, he set out the kettle.

Bilbo was just considering remaking the beds in the guest rooms, the job he did not really seeming adequate enough when a knock came from the front door.

He smiled to himself before rushing out to meet his guests.


	2. Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwarves arrive, and stories are told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story doesn't have a beta, so any and all mistakes, fall on me.

Thorin was the one to knock of the brightly painted door, the weight of his decision closing around him like a vice as the door began to open. 

The hobbit stood inside, a smile spreading across his young features as he opened the door wider for his guests. 

"Mister Thorin," the Hobbit said, sounding utterly relieved. "I thought for a second that you wouldn't show up."

Thorin heard his oldest nephew's disgusted huff, and couldn't stop the harsh edge to his words when he said, "I apologize for the inconvenience, Master Baggins."

Of corse this disgusting Hobbit would be relieved he had arrived. No doubt he had fully expected to have a personal bed warmer tonight. Someone that couldn't say no to his sick fantasies, not unless he favored being thrown out. 

"And who are these two, handsome young gentlemen?" Bilbo asked, looking past Thorin to a young blond Dwarf tween, and the smaller figure huddled close to him, fingers tangled in the other Dwarf kit's shirt.

Thorin immediately stepped in front of them, blocking Bilbo's view.

How deranged is this Hobbit if he would even consider adding a tween, and a toddler to his list of conquests? He was appalled by the audacity of this tiny creature, making passes at his underaged nephews right in front of him! He had to be strong now, loosing his temper now would get them all thrown out, putting them right back where they started. On the street, homeless, and coinless. 

"Master Baggins, if you-" 

"Is 'ere food?" Kìli spouted, and peered out from behind his uncle, eager at the possibility. His sudden outburst startling his brother. 

"Oh, yes." Bilbo said, the confused look disappearing from his face, and once more being replaced with a smile. "You must all be hungry, I made supper."

"Supper?" The little dwarf asked, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. 

"Yes, it's in the kitch-"

Bilbo was cut off as the young Dwarrow rushed past him, following his nose straight to the kitchen and climbing up onto one of the chairs with little effort. 

Thorin tried to grab the little dwarfling before he ran past their "Host", but to no avail as he caught hold of nothing. 

Bilbo watched the little dwarf go, thinking of the familiarities between him, and some of this little Took cousins. 

"I am Fìli. My brother is Kìli" 

Bilbo turned back towards the two still standing just outside his door. The blond tween having stepped in front of his uncle was fixing him with a steely glare

"Um, yes." Bilbo felt a little awkward standing in his doorway. "Bilbo Baggins at your service, please, come in."

The two Dwarves stocked passed him, and Bilbo suddenly felt a little anxious of the sword strapped to Thorin's hip. 

Thorin almost fainted in shock out of seeing the table lined with food, creaking from the strain of so much weight atop it. He hadn't see so much food all in one place since the Dwarves where driven for Erebor. 

"Whoa, 'ere's so much food here!" Kìli cried, squirming in his seat in anticipation. "Hurry up, Unca Thorin, so we can eat."

It didn't take long before they where all seated around the table, Fìli and Thorin wearily staring at the center plater, a plateful of fried chicken, and fish, while Kìli spooned mash potatoes into his mouth. 

Thorin winced seeing his little nephew's chin dripping with gravy, glancing sideways towards Bilbo, expecting to see him glaring at the young dwarfling for his table manners, or his lack of them. But Bilbo was to focuses picking at the plate of salad in front of him with his fork. No, Thorin decided then, this Hobbit has no idea what it's like to go hungry. 

"Help yourselves to as much as you like." Bilbo commented, nervously fiddling with his salad as his cooking went under careful examination. 

Eventually, Thorin reached forward picking some chicken legs out of the pile, and placing them on his plate, Fìli following his example. 

Bilbo tried not to be caught staring as his oldest Dwarvish guest sunk his teeth into the flavorful meat, but failed miserably as Thorin caught his eye while chewing. 

"It's good." He said, returning his gaze to the food.

-/:\\-

After Kìli practically licked every plate, and bowl clean, he sat back in his chair, and yawned in content. 

Bilbo smiled. "I assume you would all like to retire to bed?" 

Thorin tensed before giving a curt nod when the Hobbit turned his gaze to him. 

"Perfect." Bilbo stood, leading the way into the hall. "If you'd be so kind as to follow me."

Thorin glared at the back of the Hobbit head, as he stood, and followed him down the hallway. His nephews trailing at his heels. This was "Perfect" wasn't it? Getting paid was always a good thing. Their was no reason the Hobbit should feel anything other than glad to have gotten such an easy lay for such a cheap price. Thorin gritted his teeth, feeling only burning hatred for this "kindly" Bilbo Baggins. Did the Hobbit still think him clueless. That he didn't know what was going to happen once the boys were put to bed.

He was so lost in thought he hadn't noticed Bilbo speaking to him.

" -share a room together if they prefer."

Thorin bristled, did Bilbo just suggest sharing a room with the boys, his boys, alone? Did he think him such a simpleton that he would not understand the implications of what would happen to his boys if he allowed them into the Hobbit's chambers?

"That won't be necessary, Hobbit." He snarled, shocking even himself at the vicious tone he had used. 

Bilbo took a step back, eyes widening. He opened his mouth only to close it a second later. 

Kìli had hidden behind his brother, and even Fìli gave his Uncle a startled, confused look.

"I guess," Bilbo swallowed thickly, straightening himself a bit. He would not allow himself to be cowed in his own home, especially by guests. "I guess Kìli, and Fìli don't have to share a room, I have plenty of spares."

Thorin faltered. oh. Oh. 

"My apologies, Master Baggins. I - I-"

This was it, they were going to be thrown out. Thorin knew it, because it had happened before, in other household, and inns when he lost his temper. 

He didn't try to reason with the Master of Bag End, instead offering silence in hope he would be thrown out, and his boys left unscathed in the hearth warmed house. He could trust Fìli to not allow the Master of End anywhere near himself or Kìli, that Thorin was sure of. 

"I'm sure we're all just very tired, and need a rest." Bilbo gave Thorin a meaningful look. 

Thorin felt something drop in his stomach like cast iron. Tonight was going to hurt, that was almost guaranteed.

Bilbo stared blankly at the dwarf, wonder where exactly he went wrong. 

Was offering to young boys the same room offensive in the Dwarvish culture? He could see the innuendo if they were both older, but Kìli was just a toddler!

"I can take a room with Kìli." Fìli suggested, filling to silence that no one seemed to know how to fill after his Uncle's outburst. "We always do, it's not a problem."

Bilbo's shoulders sagged in relief. Good, he hadn't done something wrong.

"Mister Thorin, you can have the room next to Kìli, and Fìli's."

Thorin glared at the Hobbit. He was mocking him wasn't he? Giving him a room that he wouldn't be able to use. Master Baggins would come in and whisk him away to the main bedroom, pushing him down on the mattress, or even the floor, and-

Thorin didn't want to finish that particular thought. 

"I'll let you all get situated, if you need anything my room is at the end of the hall." With that, and a few 'Good night's the Hobbit disappeared down the hall, leaving the three Dwarrows alone. 

"We can leave now." Fìli hissed, glancing hurriedly towards the end of the hall. "He doesn't look like he wants you yet, and we could - we could-"

"Fìli," Thorin warned, Durins did not live off of other's coin, and Thorin would repay this veil little creature, no matter how he is required to do it. "Take Kìli to bed, and I don't want to see either of you stepping outside that door til dawn, do you both understand?"

When his oldest nephew slowly nodded his confirmation, Kìli's nod coming on confused, but more or less obedient, Thorin turned to his own room closing the door lightly behind him. 

"Why would 'e leave?" He heard Kìli ask his brother, through the door, in a hushed whisper. 

"Because, Mister Baggins is a bad Hobbit, and he's going to hurt Uncle." Fìli was using the same hushed tones as his brother.

Thorin heard Kìli's horrified gasp, "We need'a he'p Unca!"

"There's nothing we can do, Kìli, if their was I would help him. Now off to bed."

Thorin heard the door to the other room click shut, and was actually quite touched by how much his nephews cared about him. 

Thorin took a seat on the bed, almost melting into it as he felt the soft fabric. He could feel his eye lids getting heavier, wanting nothing more at the moment then to just lay down and sleep until next afternoon. 

He was hit with the realization that he wouldn't be getting any kind of luxuries tonight, as he had a job as a lowly, cheap, belly warmer. 

He slipped out of his shoes, pulling at the buckles of his armor, before stopping.

Would Bilbo want to undress him? Or would he prefer Thorin being bare to begin with? Would the Hobbit be able of even remove his armor if he left it on?

The dwarf decided the remove his armor, and tunic, leaving his chest fully exposed. 

A horrifying thought accrued to him, Bilbo probably expected him to get hard. Let his body show that he was indeed enjoying their coupling. He couldn't do it, the thought of that revolting little creature pounding into him was enough to make his skin crawl. He could fake it. Keep his cock in hand the entire time, stroking himself, forcing out moans. 

The minutes rolled by, turning into hours, as Thorin sat on the bed, shivering, even in the suffocating warmth. 

He forced himself to stay wake, but Bilbo never came. Didn't throw opened the door, and kiss him, or touch him, in ways he never experienced before. He listened for the creaking of the floorboards, and hushed footsteps that never came. 

If he didn't know better he would say he had been forgotten about.

The hopeful thought that he would be left alone tonight didn't help. Thorin sat tense, and braced for it all night. 

He awoke atop the covers, sprawled out in an awkward position, his neck aching. He just barely remember where he was, and how he got their, when he heard a choked sob coming from somewhere outside his room. 

Oh gods, Fìli. 

-/:\\-

Bilbo woke up earlier that morning then he usually did, giddy that for once in a long while he would be making breakfast not just for himself, but for guests, Dwarvish guests. 

He smiled mischievously to himself, as he pulled on some fresh clothes, by the end of the day no doubt Hobbiton would be abuzz with the scandal of Bilbo Baggins, and three dwarves. 

He hurried along the hallway, turning into the kitchen, and pulling out a few pans from where they rested in the cabinet.

Soon the entire Hobbit hole filled with the smell of frying bacon, the sizzling, and popping attracted two of his youngest guests.

"Well, good morning, lads." Bilbo said, turning to smile at them, as they looked around the doorframe. "I trust you slept well."

"We did, Master Baggins, thank you for your hospitality." Fìli gave him the same steely glare as the night before.

Before Bilbo could inform the young Dwarfling that it was only the right thing to do to invite someone out on the streets into ones home Kìli was interrupting him. 

"Did 'ou hurt Unca Thorin?"

The little dwarf came out to stand in the middle of the doorframe. Fixing Bilbo with an accusing look, well, as accusing look as the toddler could give while glancing between him and the pan of bacon. 

"Now why would I do such a thing?"

The two Dwarrows stayed silent, Kìli glancing at his brother just as confused a Bilbo was on why he would hurt their uncle. When the only sound that filled the room was the sizzling and popping Bilbo sighed and ushered them towards the table.

"First breakfast should be ready soon."

The boys took a seat, Kìli babbling about something, probably a dream he had last night. The words where nearly incomprehensible, but Fìli seemed to manage, nodding in all the appropriate places, and making the occasional comment. Bilbo noticed that Fìli's expression softened as he talked to his brother, the stony gaze he gives Bilbo disappearing in favor of a slight smile, and the harsh tone turning into something more affectionate, and gentle.

Bilbo had scrambled a few eggs, and fried some potatoes, by the time the babbling had stopped, and decided it was an appropriate time to ask the question that had been chewing at the corners of his mind since yesterday. 

"Thorin said that his sister, your mother, was traveling with you, where is she?"

He knew that it was the wrong question to ask when he heard Kìli's abrupt sniffle. Bilbo turned towards them, tears ran freely down Kìli's face, his earlier carefree exterior now gone. Fìli had his hand on his brothers' shoulder, and didn't look at Bilbo when he said,

"We couldn't wake her up yesterday morning, after Uncle Thorin went ahead. It was colder then most nights, the wind was freezing, and it didn't stop. We didn't have blankets so we kept Kìli between us, trying to keep him from freezing in the night, she put her jacket over the both of us. I don't think I fell asleep that night, but when I finally opened my eyes the sun was starting to come up, and the ground was covered in frost. I tried to wake her, but she felt like she was still stuck in the night before, freezing. I dug her a grave as best I could with just my hands, I - I think she knew, before we laid down she told me to take care of Kìli, made me promise, and I-"

Fìli broke off into a choked sob, and Bilbo rushed to his side, putting a comforting arm around both of the Dwarrows. Kìli clung onto him, sobbing into his vest, and yelling for his mother. All Bilbo could do was make soothing sounds, and tell them everything would be okay, that everything would get better. 

He looked up just in time to see Thorin running into the room, only half clothed, and looking increasingly panicked. 

Kìli took his face out of Bilbo's side just long enough to say,

"'ou 'ould've saved Ma'ma."

Thorin's expression softened. "Kìli-"

"Bring 'er back, bring Ma'ma back!" Kìli shouted, the pained expression on his face breaking Bilbo's heart. The Dwarfling was crying into his vest again, his voice muffled when he began shouting, "I want my Ma'ma!"

Kìli didn't seem to care when the eggs atop the stove burst into flames, not releasing Bilbo to put out the fire, and Fìli not helping by sobbing into his shoulder on his other side. 

Thorin walked over, and put a lid on the pan, effectively snuffing out the fire. 

"If only I could, Kìli." He heard Thorin whisper from across the room. "If only I could."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful comments, and kudos, as well as bookmarks. I sincerely hope that Kìli, and Fìli's ages have been cleared up, along with a few other things.


	3. A Job, and A Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A choice is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I struggle on without a Beta all typos are my fault.

Needless to say breakfast was effectively ruined, the bacon was cold, and the eggs burned beyond recognition, and the potatoes mostly charred. Not to mention the three very deflated Dwarves sitting at the kitchen table. Two of whom were cried out, and the other looking so exhausted he might pass out any second now. 

"I have some cake, and jam, in the pantry, would that be okay?" Bilbo was quite shocked at how fasted they all agreed to this, then again being as poor as they seemed they would have needed any extra food they could get whilst out on the road. 

He hurried into the pantry finding the still mostly full basket of yesterday's seed cakes, and grabbing a jar of strawberry jam on his way back to the kitchen. 

"These cakes are from yesterday, but they're the only thing I have that can be eaten right away." He set the basket, and jar, on the table, getting plates, and silverware for them to use.

"We cannot accept these, Master Baggins." Thorin's voice was ruff, and unbelieving. 

"I see not one reason why you cannot, Mister Thorin."

-/:\\-

Thorin was shocked finding his nephews clutching onto the Hobbit's brightly colored vest, sobbing and calling for their mother.

His gut reaching fear for his nephews replaced by a tightening in his chest.

He knew their pain, it was his sister who had passed through the gates guarded by Mahal himself. 

He sat at the small table, after putting out the burning remains of their breakfast. He felt exhausted, and knew he must of looked it by the way the Master of Bag End kept shooting him concerned glances. 'Defective merchandise' came to mind.

Thorin was considerably grateful when the Hobbit offered them cake, and jam, instead of just flat out throwing them back out onto the street. A debt still needed to be repaid, though he knew not when for this creature had proven himself to be quite different to the stories he had heard from the unfortunate enough to have experienced them first hand. 

When the Hobbit returned he carried a familiar basket of seed cakes, and a jar of jam. The Dwarfs mouth began to water, and it took far more self control then he was expected it to refrain from grabbing one right away. 

"These cakes are from yesterday, but their the only thing I have that can be eaten right away." The Hobbit set them down, staring over at the remains of the first attempt at breakfast, before bustling back to the cabinet. 

Thorin stared at the Hobbit's back, eyes wide with disbelief. These cakes must have cost a fortune, and just eating the one he had been offered yesterday would have forced Thorin to work for at least a week in a town of Men, them throwing him loose pocket change for hours of blood, and sweat. 

Kìli was excitedly reaching for one when he said, "We cannot accept these, Master Baggins."

Bilbo carried some plates, and silverware back to the table, placing one of each in front of the three Dwarrows before saying, "I see not one reason why you cannot, Mister Thorin."

Kìli took that as his sign to grab the cake he had his little heart set on, momentarily stopping his sniffling, and silent tears. Fìli glanced at his uncle, eyes red, and when Thorin gave a hesitant nod he reached forward, placing a cake on his plate. 

"Go on then, you too." It was only then that Thorin realized that Bilbo was talking to him.

"Is it alright, Master Baggins? These cakes seem quite expensive." The dwarf was staring longingly at the basket, hoping the Master of Bag End had no intention of changing his mind. 

"Not at all, quite cheap actually, help yourself." Bilbo seemed to think of something for a second, before he added, "And then I'll take you to that job I offered you."

Thorin stopped mid-reach. This Hobbit owed him, and his family, nothing. Quite the opposite actually, he owed this Hobbit more then he had to give. This creature could not just do these thing out of the "goodness of his heart" such a thing was a myth, he would want something, eventually. They always did. 

-/:\\-

Bilbo walked along side Thorin, the poor Dwarf looking ready to collapse. He felt bad for making him hike half way across town to the forge, but the Dwarrow had insisted on going now. Bilbo had allowed the boys to stay in his home, not seeing any reason for them to exert themselves, a forge as also no place for children. 

"Your nephews care a great deal for you, they are utterly concerned for your safety." Bilbo commented, breaking the uncomfortable silence that hung between them. 

Thorin glanced at him for a moment. "What makes you think such a thing, Master Baggins?" The reply was hesitant, and a little more then suspicious. 

"I do have eyes, Mister Thorin. Also they appear to be following us." Bilbo smiled at the confused look on Thorin's face.

The Dwarf turned his head, managing to catch a glimpse of a golden mane before it disappeared behind a hill.

Oh, he was going to drag them around by their ears.

"Kìli, Fìli." Thorin all but shouted, glaring daggers as the two dwarfling slowly stepped out from their hiding place.

The boys looked more then miserable as the came forward, heads bowed, and Kìli seemingly on the verge of tears. 

Thorin glared at Fìli, he had instructed his eldest nephew to stay at the Hobbit's home. If something unsightly would have happened he would not, no refused, to have his nephews see him at his weakest state. 

"We din't want to see Unca get hu't." Kìli said, eyes glossy with restrained tears. Fìli nodded his agreement, not daring to raise his eyes. 

Bilbo could not understand why Kìli seemed utterly convinced something was going to hurt his uncle, but decided not to ask, in case it happened to be very personal information. And one Bilbo Baggins was raised better than going around, and snooping through other people's personal lives. 

"I see no reason why the boys can't tag along, I don't actually expect you to be using the forge today. They won't get hurt."

-/:\\-

Thorin raised an eyebrow at a very confusing Hobbit. Not using the forge? Isn't that what the entire idea was, getting him a job. 

"Master Baggins, if I may, Dwarves do not get hurt, we are made of metal and stone." Fìli momentarily lost his mistrusting gaze in favor of a prideful look for his dwarvish heritage.

"No doubt, Mister Fìli, Mister Kìli, not a doubt in all Middle-Earth." Bilbo decided humored them. 

Kìli giggled at the title he received, the bright smile looking so much better on his young features then the mournful expression he had previously worn. 

"Mister Boggins, are 'e staying wit' you tonight, too?" The little Dwarfling looked hopeful.

Bilbo didn't really know what to say to that. He would be happy to have them stay with him at least a little longer, gleeful really, waking up every morning to a big, empty, house could never really be enjoyable. If anything it was frightening. Thorin seemed utterly exhausted, he most likely didn't get any sleep while at his home, but where were they to go if they didn't stay with him? 

"Mister Thorin, would you like to stay another night in Bag End, it's just me there, so there is plenty of room."

Thorin started at him for a moment, befuddled at the request. Another nights housing? He considered himself lucky if he got a single night, and in all of his travels no one had ever offered the would-be king a second night with a roof over his head. 

"I have nothing more I could give you for a second night at your home, Master Baggins." Thorin said, Kìli instantly deflating at his side. 

"You don't need to offer me a thing." Bilbo said, smiling lightly to assure the Dwarf that what he said was true. "In fact, since you might be working here, in Hobbiton, you can stay with me until you manage to get back onto your feet." 

Kìli let out a cheer, bouncing onto Bilbo's legs, and rapping them in a tight hug. The Dwarfling was smiling ear to ear, as he repeated something along the lines of, "Thank you, Mister Boggins." in childish glee. 

Fìli smiled down at his brother, he had missed this side of Kìli, ever since the nights started getting colder, and food began thinning, a solemn child had taken his place .

Thorin on the other hand was quite shocked at the turn of events, housing as long as he needed it. For no cost, or debt, that he didn't already own the Hobbit.

When the silence stretched on to long, and he earned hope filled looks, not just from Kìli, but from his oldest nephew as well, he looked at Bilbo. 

"Thank you, Master Baggins, I would consider myself very fortunate to be able to stay in your home until I can provide for myself, Kìli , and Fìli."

The smile Thorin received from his host was bright, and hopeful. 

"Well, then boys, lets not stand around to long. I think it's going to start raining soon." Bilbo looked up, and Thorin followed his gaze. 

The sky was only the slightest bit cloudy, and the Dwarf could see not one thing to make the Hobbit suspect it would rain.

Delusional Hobbits, he thought to himself. 

-/:\\-

Needless to say it began pouring before they even got to the forge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the wonderful feedback.


	4. Mistakes To Be Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my wonderful Beta Anchanee!

The last thing Thorin needed right now was to be running through the mud back to Bilbo's home. The blisters on his feet shot pain through him with every step, and when he slipped his mood only worsened. 

"Thorin are you alright?" Bilbo squeaked, offering a hand down to where Thorin laid ungracefully sprawled on the path. 

He didn't reply, only pushed himself up, and glared at the Hobbit's hand until Bilbo put it down. 

"Alright then." His host said, hurrying along, walking now at a slower pace so Thorin wouldn't trip again. 

Once they where all inside Bag End, it was safe to say they had all been effectively drenching, and were in serious need of some dry towels, and several glasses of hot chocolate.  

"I'll fetch us some towels, and then make us all a cup, or two, of hot chocolate." suggested Bilbo, before he turned his attention towards the bathroom. He couldn’t help but smile as he heard Kìli's cheer of approval. 

-/:\\-

 

Once the Hobbit had disappeared down the hallway, Fìli turned to his uncle. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by his younger brother. 

"Unca, Fìli lied to me! He says Mister Boggins is a bad hob-hobbi-" The dwarfling fumbled over his words, looking quite displeased with himself when he finished, "A bad hobity."

"Kìli, not so lou-"

"I th'nk Mister Boggins is good." Kìli folded his arms when he was finished speaking, glaring at the blond dwarf with mild dissatisfaction.

Fìli sighed in exasperation, as Thorin peered down the hall, hoping that their host didn't overhear their conversation. 

"We can't always trust people who are nice, Kìli, and I'm afraid this applies to Mister Baggins as well." After that, Fìli herded his brother further into the sitting room. 

-/:\\-

Bilbo pressed his ear to the bathroom door as soon as he had closed it behind himself, his father would be very displeased with his demeanour and would have hit him upside the head for eavesdropping, but his guests were talking about him, he just knew it. Surly it could be considered his business if he was the subject of their conversation.   
   
He couldn't help but feel nervous; whatever was said out in the hall next could change everything. 

They could be discussing leaving, or dare he hope it, staying. He felt a little giddy at the thought, maybe they very much liked him, and wanted to stay. Ever since having he'd seen Thorin enter their little town, and he had all but forced himself to work up his courage to actually speak with to him. Everything felt different. 

He didn't feel like locking himself in up at Bag End, and refusing to answer all knocks that came on the door. He didn't feel like skipping meals any more, or sitting in his father's old armchair, and relive what had happened the night that he lost both his parents. He felt better ever since the dwarves had arrived.

"I th'nk Mister Boggins is good." Bilbo smiled when he heard the youngest dwarfling admission.

He heard someone sigh, before Fìli said, "We can't always trust people who are nice, Kìli, and I'm afraid this applies to Mister Baggins as well."

And there it was. 

Bilbo trudged back to the sitting area, holding several towels hanging in a lose grip. The conversation stopped as soon as he had shut the bathroom door. He didn't meet Thorin's eyes as he offered the fuzzy towels. He made sure to grab the good ones, the ones his mother had brought back from one of her adventures.

"I'll get the hot chocolate." Bilbo heard his voice come off far more neutral then he expected it to be, and tried his hand at a forced smile to reassure the dwarves that everything was alright. The smile however, didn't go as planned, probably looking much to like a grimace. So Bilbo scurried off into the kitchen.

Don't mess this up anymore then you already have, Baggins, he thought to himself.  

-/:\\-

 

"Uncle?" Fìli asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Fìli, I'm fine." But the truth was, Thorin was very much not okay, he felt like there was a heavy weight in his stomach.

The hobbit had overheard them. What should he do? He knew the hobbit had overheard them. 

-/:\\-

Dinner was a quite affair. While Kìli occasionally made comments on the food, in a string of words that as usual didn't make sense, a heavy tension had settled in the room. 

Supper was slightly more eventful. The dwarrows were shocked that they were expected to eat two evening meals, when they sometimes couldn't afford even one. Fìli seemed on the verge of tears because of Bilbo’s generosity. 

Their host during most of this was well collected, his features schooled into a mask of politeness, and hospitality.

The change in Bilbo was so evident, that even little Kìli was suspecting something was off about the hobbit's usually cheery disposition. 

"Mister Boggins, are 'ou okay?" Kìli asked, concern lacing his words. 

"Ah, yes, Kìli, I'm fine." Bilbo lied, trying to ignore the fact that all eyes lay on him. 

The dwarfling looked down at the table, stating in a quiet voice, "That's wh't Unca says when 'e's not."

Bilbo felt his heart clench in his chest, this little dwarf really knew how to pull painfully at his heart strings. 

He stood, grabbing his plate, and putting it in the sink. He could wash everything up tomorrow. 

"Well, I'll be heading off to bed now, good-night." He walked down the hall, but didn't miss the quite “Good-night, Mister Boggins.”

-/:\\-

Thorin pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, he was such an idiot. Of course that blasted well-to-do hobbit would have overheard them. He should have stopped Kìli the moment he had realized what his nephew was about to say! 

He would have to make up for the insult, even if it was true, somehow. But what would he do? The hobbit had offered to give them housing as long as they needed it, but would the this offer still stand after everything he had overheard?

It was late already. He had put his boys to bed a while ago, and had taken a seat at the kitchen table, prolonging the inevitable. There's really only one thing he could think of to make it up to his their host.

He managed to pull himself to his aching feet, padding down to the end of the hall, before opening the door to the master-bedroom, and letting himself in.

-/:\\-

Bilbo had sat up when he heard the door to his room open. Never let it be said Bilbo Baggins was a poor host, even if his guest required his attention at midnight. Preparing himself for a request for food, drink or anything else, he tried to get out of bed to reach for his dressing-grown. 

"Thorin-," he managed, before there was a harsh set of lips pressed against his own, and immediately after that a strong, albeit thin, body pressed down against him, pinning his smaller frame to the bed. Bilbo began to panic, his sleep hazed mind not knowing exactly what to make of this. 

The dwarf broke the kiss, in favor of peppering kisses along the hobbit's jaw, and neck. Thorin shut his eyes tightly, imagining it was anybody else in the hobbits place. Anyone else but this Hobbit he was performing these actions too. 

"Thorin, stop." Bilbo yelped, voice coming out frantic, and more than a little panicked. He desperately trying to push the dwarf away. 

Thorin froze, opening his eyes, before pulling back just enough for them to make eye contact. Icy blue eyes, meet light brown ones.   

"You heard us, talking earlier." Thorin said, grip tightening where he had his hands holding Bilbo's hips. "I have offered you insult, by allowing my nephew to speak about you in such a way."

"Yes, I heard, but why are you-" ," Bilbo couldn't figure out how to finish the question. What was he trying to doing exactly? Kissing and touching in forced, awkward, jerky, movements. Where was the sense in that?

"I thought this is what you wanted. I have no coin, or anything of value that I can offer, all I can give you is my service in bed."

Bilbo gaped at him the dwarf for the second time that night. That didn't make any sense at all! Why would Thorin even consider-

Bilbo thought back to the books in his mother's old study. He dimly remembered one on about the towns of Men, where poor citizens would pay their debts by prostituting themselves. The thought alone that had made his skin crawl. 

"If you want to apologize, you can help me by washing the dishes tomorrow." Bilbo found himself saying, far louder them necessary.  
"And now I wish you a good-night!" With that he desperately tried to pull his bed sheets back up, so he could hide under them. 

Thorin watched as Bilbo began pulling at the sheets; unable to shift the dwarf's weight enough to succeed in his task, and mumbling something about the weather.  
All the while his face turning a deeper shade of red. 

Oh. Damn.

Thorin realized he had messed up. Bad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, thank-you for all the feedback, and kudos.


	5. Dishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my magnificent beta reader, Anchanee.

Last night had taken Bilbo far longer than anticipated, to convince Thorin that he did not, in fact, want to sleep with him in return for his hospitality. 

No, he did not think the dwarf to be a common whore.

No, that was not the reason he had let him into his house. 

Yes, Thorin was making Bilbo uncomfortable, thank you very much!

And when the dwarf still seemed reluctant to believe the hobbit that he was honest, Bilbo tried to emphasize:

No, he was not going to sleep with him. And that Thorin should get out of his room!

They would talk about this tomorrow!

Needless to say, after a sleepless night, tomorrow had came all too soon.

Bilbo stepped into the hallway, after dressing early the next morning. He made his way to the pantry, stilling when he heard a hushed conversation from the direction of his pantry. He peeked around the corner.

"Fìli, put 'at back!" The little dark haired dwarfling whined at his brother. "Mister Boggins is gonna be ma' at you."

Fìli sat on one of the high pantry shelves, his hand in a cookie-jar. "But I'm hungry, and he won't get mad if he doesn't know." He waved one of the cookies in front of his brothers nose. "And if you don't tell you get one."

Kìli watched the treat dangling before his eyes with his lips pursed. 

"No, 'ose 'elong to Mister Boggins." The little dwarf shook his head, balling his hands into tiny fists to keep himself from grabbing the cookie. "I'm 'ot getting in tr'ble."

"Those do belong to Mister Baggins." Bilbo confirmed, stepping into the pantry with a serious look on his face.

He almost laughed at the falling expression on the boys's faces, but somehow managed to keep a straight face. He'd done this before, with his little cousins who used to gobble up all his pastries. A stern face made them think they were in trouble, and only if they apologized they were given the desired pastries. But only as long as they promised not to tell their parents. A little educational exercise to make the children understand that they could not take whatever they want. They would overindulge themselves and get sick after all.

Apparently, it worked on the two dwarflings as well. 

"Master Baggins!" Fìli yelped, shoving the jar back rather forcefully, before jumping down to the floor. "I'm so sorry, Master Baggins, I promise this won’t happen again. I-I am sorry. It's just … I was …"

"I told 'im!" Kìli said, tears shining in his eyes. "I told 'im not to, but …"

"Boys, boys." Bilbo tried to calm them down, they already seemed prepared to run and hide, and he hadn’t even started to explain why they should simply asked for a cookie if they wanted one. "It’s alright, everything is alright, don’t worry."

The worst the hobbit had ever gotten from a scene like that was an occasional shame filled look, and a mumbled apology. Never had it backfired so completely. The two dwarf’s seemed close to panicking.

Bilbo tried to sooth them, "I'm not angry, everything is alright."

Oh he had screwed it up now. Made Thorins nephews cry, that wouldn’t sit well with their uncle.

"So'y, Mister Boggins, e'm real, very, so'y, Mister Boggins." The dwarfling cried, using his shirt sleeve to swipe messily at the trail of mucus running from his nose. 

"No, no, it is quite alright, neither of you have done anything wrong!" Bilbo hurried to approach them. Kneeling to be able to wrap his arms around the little dwarfling, keeping him close. Not a second later Kìli was clutching to his vest, probably getting his snot on it, but Bilbo couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. 

He began looking over his shoulder. Thorin was going to find out about this. The dwarf seemed to be able to sense when something was wrong. And then his perception of Bilbo and his motives would plummet even farther then it already was, because he had the gall to accidentally make one of his nephews cry. Not to mention he already felt horrible for this!

"Please, Mister Baggins, don't toss us out, please!" Fíli came to stand in font of Bilbo, tears shining in his eyes.

"No ones getting thrown out." Bilbo stated, looking up at where Fíli stood. " I promise!" 

"But, but, I messed up. I … I …"

"You where hungry, and I was asleep, so you helped yourself to some breakfast. It's perfectly natural." Bilbo's expression softened. "Now, if you'd like, I could start to make a proper breakfast."

Fíli nodded, pulling his brother away from the Hobbit's embrace so he could stand. 

"Now what would you like, little ones?" Bilbo smiled when Kíli's head shot up.

"H'm and bacon?" It was more of a question then an actual answer, but Bilbo took what he got, and nodded. 

"We also have ingredients to make some flapjacks." 

"What's a 'flap Jack'?" Fíli asked, looking utterly fascinated about who this Jack was. The house was empty, was their another hobbit hiding away I one of the empty rooms? 

Had Bilbo been smiling before, he was practically beaming now. "Don't I have a surprise for the two of you."

-/:\\-

When Thorin was all but shoved backed into his room the other night, thing just felt - off. Every movement sent jolts of pain up, and down, his spine, but that was normal. It was something about the hobbit's reaction. It seemed to sincere to be a trick, to much color had painted his face, to loud his words of rejection. Was the Hobbit really so against bedding another race? Surely he wasn't that unsightly. He wasn't as stout as other dwarves, or have nearly as much facial hair, but he wasn't that bad on the eyes. Maybe it was different with Hobbits, maybe they had higher standards. And those standards didn't include rough-looking homeless dwarves that hadn't had a proper shower in months. Maybe he was even hideous to the hobbit, so revolting to look upon that the very idea of him was enough to make one gag. These thoughts had lulled him into sleep. 

Thorin waved an arm in front of his face, trying to will away whatever was disturbing his restful sleep. It tickled his nose, and warmed his face. It was nice, for the first time in so long something was warm and, soft. 

His eyes fluttered open, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. But he couldn't really bring himself to do anything but close his eyes once again. To tired and worn to stay awake. For once, his sleep hazed mind didn't care where he was, or why he was there. The sun shining through the window just felt too good, and everything was just so warm, especially after the many days they had spent in the cold, wide open. With Winter slowly sinking its cold merciless fangs into the ground, and air. 

He closed his eyes again, aching all over, but still found it too easy to drift off again. 

Thorin drifted back to consciousness at a soft knock on the door. 

"Thorin, breakfast is ready."

Oh, that was his host wasn't it? Bido. Bilo. Bilba. Bilbo? That sounded about right. The pause on the other side of the door lasted a little longer then Thorin thought necessary before the hobbit spoke up again. "If your not up yet, I'll save you something." 

There was a shuffling outside for a second, before nearly inaudible footsteps lead away for the room. 

He should probably get up, shouldn't he? But, on the other hand … 

Thorin pulled up the blankets again, closing his eyes and smiling slightly into the pillow. Never thinking himself to ever be pleased that he was considered unacceptably unattractive by hobbit-kind. He could barely bring himself to open his eyes again. Bilbo had said that they would talk in the morning, but he wasn't so sure if this talk would be about money, or payment in whatever form the hobbit found acceptable. 

Something was tickling the back of his mind, something the hobbit had said. Something about … dishes? 

Thorin nearly fell out off bed in his scrambled attempts to get up. His first assignment in repaying Bilbo was to do the dishes! That's what the little thing had said last night. And he was already slacking in his duties. He looked down at himself, still half dressed, his trousers a wrinkled mess after having slept in them. He couldn't present himself like this. A king under a mountain, even a stolen one, didn't dress so poorly as to look the way he did. On the other hand, kings usually had kingdoms and didn’t wash dishes for housing. 

He pulled on yesterday’s clothes, in fact the only set of clothes he owned, and rushed out into the kitchen. 

-/:\\-

Breakfast was going quite smoothly. Even with one of his guests absent, things were going well so far. 

Bilbo tried to think about what he should say to the dwarf once he got up. 'I put a plate of breakfast on the stove.' That would put him in a corner. Thorin would be eating, and talking when ones mouth was full was not something someone with manners did.

On the other hand, if he suggested, 'We need to talk after breakfast.' The dwarf would spend the meal thinking about what was to come. A potentially stressful situation, and a Baggins did not put people in stressful situations, not if he could help it. 

Oh, dear. He might as well be doing something productive while he contemplated what to do.

A quick glance on his way to the sink showed, that Kìli was staring in wonder at the syrupy mess he had made on his plate, and that Fìli was munching happily on his stack of ‘Jacks’.

Thorin didn't seem to be going to enter the world of the living anytime soon. So Bilbo decided to take his mind off the dwarf. There where still dishes in the sink and no respectable Baggins would allow dirty dishes to spoil his kitchen. 

He began humming an old nursery rhyme his mother had taught him. A little tune about manners, and picking flowers, and of course delicious food, something every hobbit-song had to contain, when he heard a noisy tut. Followed by a loud swearword he had never heard before, and the mortified gasp of two dwarflings at the table. 

Bilbo turned anxious, hands still dripping with soapy water. Thorin stood just outside the room, one hand held tightly to his forehead. Had he just run into the doorframe?

"Are you alright?" Bilbo asked with concern, and just like that, his carefully planned greeting had been ruined. 

"I am fine, but-" Thorin looked down at Bilbo's hands with worry. "Am I to late for my dish washing duties?"

"Dish washing …?" Oh, right, he had said that last night, hadn't he? "You can dry them?" It was more of a question then it was supposed to be. But Thorin just nodded, grabbing a dry towel, and taking his place beside Bilbo to wipe down the plates, and silverware. His breakfast was left cooling on the stove, and Bilbo mentally scolding himself for not just telling the dwarf to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late up date, I have a habit of becoming lazy at inopportune times.


	6. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A talk ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my marvelous beta reader, Anchanee, for just being overall amazing.

The clatter of dishes rang through the hobbit hole. Each clink making Bilbo wince and cringe. It almost seemed as if Thorin was purposefully trying to chip each and every one of his plates. 

He could see the dwarf becoming more irritated with every dish that he handed to him. He seemed personally offended, by every piece of tableware that refused to be ridded of water after only one swipe of his dish-towel. 

"Do you, uh, need some help?" Bilbo asked cautiously. Never before had he meet someone who seemed unversed in drying dishes. Such a simple task was usually given to hobbitlings who wanted to help their mother!

"I think I can manage, Master Baggins." Thorin replied, not taking his eyes off of the offending dish. "It is only a plate. It won’t resist me for long!"

Bilbo watched as the dwarf vigorously rubbed the porcelain with the semi-wet-towel. Glaring when he noticed his efforts to be useless, and the water was only distributed instead of removed from the plate.

"Maybe we can finish the dishes later?" Bilbo suggested, trying to spare his dishes further torment.

Thorin's shoulders sagged in relief, glancing hesitantly at Bilbo when he said, "I would not be opposed."

He smiled, ushering the dwarf towards the kitchen table.

"Mister Fìli, Mister Kìli," gathering giggles at the formal addressing form the two little dwarves, who had started to draw patterns with the syrup left on their plates, Bilbo suggested, "Would you like to play in the back-garden? Your uncle and I want to talk in private."

The slight smile on Fìli's face was replaced by a worried frown, before he stood up and reached for his brother. "Come on, Kìli, let’s play outside."

"Don't leave the garden." Bilbo warned, as Fìli led his brother from the room. 

"I's okay, Mister Boggins, 'e 'ont." Kìli called back, before the door shut behind them. 

Thorin turned to him as soon as his nephews had left. Staring at the hobbit with a mistrusting gaze. 

"Well, take a seat." Bilbo motioned towards one of the chairs. When Thorin took his seat, he grabbed the two syrup slicked plates, and put them in the sink. 

Bilbo didn't say anything when he took a seat across from Thorin, instead he chewed at his bottom lip, deciding how to start. 

"Mister Oakenshield, about last night..." The hobbit began, shifting nervously in his seat. "About you offering your … ahm … services to me …"

Thorin raised an eyebrow at the petty creature in front of him. "So, you changed your mind about it?" He leaned forward slightly, trying to look causal, expectant. And not like his pride was trying to rip him apart at the seams for so easily submitting to his host. He couldn't believe himself to be so undignified as to stoop to this level, but the hobbit had said that they would not be sleeping together. Was he just talking about the specific night? And that favors were expected from now on? Was he not free of the tread of sexual services?

"Oh dear, no!" Bilbo said, turning a bright shade of crimson, from his cheeks all the way up to the tips of ears. 

"Does my appearance not please you?" the dwarf questioned, openly scowling now. This little thing, without even a hint of beard, didn't think his looks at least appealing? He was a king, of the Durin line! And this fickle hobbit should be jumping at the chance to be anywhere near him! 

Irritated by the sudden flare of temperament, Bilbo asked, "Do you want me to bed you as payment for housing that I offer freely?" barely managing to hide his mortification at the thought. 

Thorin paused. After a moment he admitted, "No."

"Then I will not, thank you, and have a good morning!" The hobbit huffed, rising from his seat to make an escape from the unpleasant conversation and the piercing glare of his guest. 

"Then what do you want?" Thorin asked, looking confused and utterly at a loss of what to do now. 

"I don't want anything, Thorin," Bilbo explained kindly.

"Everybody wants something, Master Baggins. You can’t be any different." Thorin sighed tiredly.

Bilbo stopped in the doorway, thinking about what his guest had just said. He had avoided this question, ever since the dwarrows had arrived. "I want to help." He finally admitted, drawing a shaky breath, before continuing, "I don't want to see you, or anyone else, out in the street, starving and despaired. I've seen to much of that already …"

The truth was, that was all Bilbo could think about: to help these dwarrows.

The harsh, brutality of Fell Winter had had his people out in the streets, begging for food in neighboring towns. Some hadn’t even been able to make it that far, they were discovered later on, ripped apart by wolves when spring had finally arrived. It had broken his heart.

So yes, he knew what it was like for Thorin. Doing anything for some meager scraps, no price high enough – not even his own dignity – for precious provisions in a seemingly never ending winter. 

Before Thorin could make further inquiries, Bilbo rushed into his mother's study, locking the door behind him. He needed time to think. This dwarf was just so … so damaged. He had been through so much, had had so little help. And Bilbo didn't even want to think about what Thorin had been forced to do, just to feed his family.

He just needed a little while to find the best course of action from now on. Just a little while to fight down the tears that had began to flow. 

-/:\\-

No one had tried to enter the study, where Bilbo had hidden. Actually, there was no signs of life outside the door at all, Bilbo realized when his tears had finally dried.

Kìli's usual merry chatter, or Fìli's occasional interruptions. They all were missing from his home, replaced with all-encompassing silence. 

When Bilbo finally decided to leave the study, and find Thorin, the only indication that there was someone else, was the closing of the door. 

He walked into the kitchen, where the rest of the dishes had been washed, and dried, but his guests were absent. The dwarf's breakfast was still sitting on the stove, untouched and cold. 

"Thorin?" He called, accidentally stepping on a creaky floor board. The sound echoed through the smial, and Bilbo could help but find this situation far to familiar. 

After his parents had been killed he would come back from the market into an empty hobbit hole. The silence would eat away at him, forcing him out of the once so beloved rooms, as much as possible. The quiet smial had disappeared for a short time, been replaced by laughter and talks and eager chatting, but now it was back with vengeance. It seemed even more silent than it used to. The silence more defeating than before.

The feeling of being alone was suffocating, and he felt so small, small and more alone then he ever remembered being. Even after the death of his parents.

"Thorin, … Kìli, Fìli?" He called, even his own voice sounded odd to him. 

At a soft knock at to the front door, Bilbo sighed in relief. Thorin had just gone outside to get the boys.

"Coming!" He called, practically running to the door.

"I was afraid you had …" He paused when he saw his neighbour, Hamfast, on the other side.

"Mister Bilbo." Hamfast said, "I saw a stranger leaving your home. I was worried you were out of town, and being robbed! So I wanted to make sure that everything is in order."

"A stranger? Leaving? He wasn't a dwarf, by any chance? Oh, please say he wasn't a dwarf, Hamfast." Bilbo asked breathless, desperately clutching his hands.

"Yes, Mister Bilbo, he was a dwarf." Hamfast shifted anxiously on the porch. "He did look the bad sort the … Mister Bilbo where are you off to?"

Bilbo barely heard his gardener calling after him, as he swooped past him, leaving his door agape.

"I'm going to find my dwarves!" he shouted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also thank you for the wonderful feed back on the last chapter.


	7. Copper Coins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to may wonderful beta reader, Anchanee.

Thorin didn't take his eyes off the spot where Bilbo had stood only a moment ago. He was  
dumbstruck by one sentence in particular.

He was repeating it over and over in his mind: 'I want to help.'

When was the last time that he had even heard any suggestion of help? Let alone being on the receiving end of it, for absolutely no cost, no coins, no items, not even a "favour" in exchange.

He wouldn't have to work, and hand over every single coin he made that day, only to appease one lousy farmer in exchange for being allowed to take up a corner in his barn, to be saved from freezing to death. He wouldn't have to stoop as low as theft, and petty tricks, to acquire enough money for food. Wouldn't have to do what he had dreaded to please his hobbit host.

But help just seemed such foreign concept in his new life. A concept he once had known, back when he had had a home and people, a kingdom and a family, but nowadays it had become so rare, it was practically a myth to him.

"He wants ... to help." He said in a low voice, fully aware that there was no one else in the room to share his thoughts.

"Uncle?" His oldest nephew asked, and he would have jumped, out of his skin had Dís not been much the same, in her youth. "Why are you smiling?"

"Unca, 'ou are 'ou talkin' to?" Kíli asked, looking out from behind his brother.

"No one, I was just thinking." Thorin rose from his seat. "Are you done playing outside?" 

"Well," Fíli looked away, sheepishly. "Kíli wants to see the market, can we go?"

"We, ... we don't have much money." Thorin admitted, damaging his pride in saying so. "Just to see?" Kíli looked hopeful. "'e won't buy anythin'!"

"Please, Uncle. The market looked so nice when we passed through the first time." Fíli looked down at his brother. "I won't let Kíli cause any trouble, I promise."

"You don't know who could be wandering around out there." Thorin reminded him, before his youngest nephew could confirm that he wouldn‟t be causing any trouble, anything to get his way. So the dwarf decided, "But I could take you both, if you are good."

Kíli beamed, grabbing his brother's hand, dragging him towards the door. Thorin reached into his pockets, feeling the jingling coins he had been able to scrap together.

It was not even enough for a room that would have saved their mother from perishing from the cold. Only a few meagre copper pieces, he managed to save, emergence funds for when starving to death could been a very real possibility.

He had a job though now, if he could believe his host. Surely treating the boys with some cheap sweets wouldn't cost him too much. He enclosed the cold metal with his fist, before following his nephews outside, closing it quietly behind him.

Bilbo didn't seem to be coming out of his study any time soon, so they wouldn't be missed while they were on their quick trip to the village.

-/:\\-

"Unca! Unca!" Kíli squealed, grabbing hold of Thorin's sleeve. "I wanna 'ee 'a toys!"

Thorin found himself being dragged towards a stall, littered with polished wooden toys.  
"How can I help you today, Mister Dwarf?" 

The hobbit behind the counter gave him a weary smile, eyeing the sword that was strapped to his belt.

"We're just looking." Fíli replied instantly, stretching his neck to peer at some figurines on a shelve.

Kíli grabbed one of the wooden horse cravings off of the table. Petting it with cautious fingers, smiling down at it in awe.

"Very good eyes, little Mister." The shopkeeper commented. "That one is made of ironwood. Hard to work with, but the results are always worthwhile. You will find no toy of better quality at my stand."

Kíli looked miserable when he had to put it back, remembering his earlier promise to not ask for anything. Fíli would always get mad at him when he got new toys, saying that mother, and uncle wouldn't be able to eat that night, just because they had spent money on a plaything, or a small puzzle game.

"Kíli, if you want it, I can buy it for you." Thorin said, kneeling beside his nephew.

Kíli shook his head, "No, i's okay."

"How much is it?" Thorin still asked, even when his nephew protested desiring it.

"For you, today, a single copper piece, my good sir," the hobbit said, casually leaning against the counter, smiling kindly at the dwarves in front of him.

Thorin stood, shaking his head, even when the price meant that he WOULD be able to buy a toy for his nephew, "Surely that price is far too low. It's very good craftsmanship."

The shopkeeper merely raised an eyebrow at him, before explaining, "I would charge fifteen cooper pieces for anything made of ironwood. But for you, today, I will only charge one, my stall, my rules Master Dwarf."

The hobbit tipped his hat, a grin spreading on his face when Thorin handed him the demanded piece of copper, looking happily at the little dwarfling who reached for the pony cautiously. "It's all yours little mister, take good care of it."

Kíli squealed overjoyed, when he snatched the carving, showing it to his brother so Fíli could admire it too.

"Thank you." Thorin said to the hobbit, who only hummed in response.

"What had happened just now?" Fíli asked once they were away from the stall, far enough so thatthey wouldn't be overheard.

Kíli looked up at his brother questioningly, the horse firmly clutched to his chest. "That hobbit practically give it away. And you couldn't even afford fifteen copper pieces, uncle!"

Thorin just smiled down at Kíli, watching his sister's-son staring at the toy adoringly, completely oblivious as to why the hobbit had given something away, just to make a little dwarfling happy. Aiming for a change of subject he coaxed them, "Well, I was planning on buying sweets for the twoof you. Looks like we still have enough money for that."

Fíli just gave his uncle an annoyed look. "You weren't listening to me, weren‟t you?"

Kíli gasped in amazement: a new toy AND sweets? Durin's Day had somehow come early this year.

"Sweeties!" Kíli giggled. "Come on, Unca!" 

Kíli grabbed his uncle's hand, dragging him towards the bakery, weaving through the crowd with him, indifferent to the wary look of the hobbits around them.

When they came to a halt in front of a stall they found the most colourful and deliciously looking cakes, and pastries, lined up behind a glass case. The little dwarf pressed his face to the glass, eyeing a small pastry rolled in sugar.

"Unca!" He said, pointing hurriedly at it insistently, fingerprints smudging the glass.

The hobbit behind the counter made a distressed sound at the smudged glass. Looking wide eyed at the sword on Thorin's hip. "Can I ... ahm ... can I help you?"

"This one! This one!" Kíli repeated, smiling up at the plump hobbit-lass.

"Can I get two of those, please?" Thorin asked, once again pulling out the entirety of his savings.

"Um, yes, of course." The baker pulled two of the sticky buns from the display and wrapped them up. "Your new to town, so these are on the house." She stated with a smile, handing the pastries to a very confused Thorin.

"But I can't ... it wouldn't be right for me too just take these for you. I am no common thief, and will not practically steal these from you, if you don't charge for them!" Though strictly speaking that wasn't quite true. Thorin was very much a thief, honest work would only get one so far, when trying to feed ones family.

The hobbit-lass only shook her head at him, offering a hesitant but fond. "You're quite the intimidating type, Mister Dwarf, with your impressive sword and imposing glare, but one should never judge a book by its cover. Therefore I insist, please take them as a welcoming gift from Hobbiton." Immediately after she had finished she scurried off into the depth of the stall, before Thorin could insist to pay.

"Sweeties!" Kíli pouted when Thorin didn‟t hand them over immediately, having been deprived from his beloved sweets a little too long. Kíli only returned to his cheerful self, when one of the treats were handed to him and the other to his brother.

"These hobbits," Fíli said, eyeing the bun with uncertainty. "They are too nice, much nicer than the humans ... it's that stra... Uncle, did you hear that?" He asked, interrupting himself, looking up and down the marketplace.

"'Ear 'at?" Kíli asked, his mouth full of, following his brothers line of sight, only seeing a bustling market place from his perspective.

Bilbo pushed his way through the crowd, searching anxiously for his guests until his eyes landed on the three dwarves. His shoulders sagged visibly when he spotted them.

Kíli instantly scurried over to their hobbit, ready to show off his new toy. But the dwarfling stopped, when he saw the anxiety on the hobbit's face.

"Mister Boggins?" Kíli asked, tucking the horse into the folds of his shirt, reaching for Bilbo's hand with the other. "'id 'ou loose somethin'? 'at is it, I can 'elp 'ou look."

"Three dwarves, but it seems like I've just found them." Bilbo attempted to smile at the little dwarf, who looked up at him in confusion.

"Is everything alright, Master Baggins?" Thorin asked, having followed his nephew to reach Bilbo soon after him. "You seemed upset earlier. I apologize for anything that I have said to offend you."

"Mister Thorin, it's fine. I was just sentiment, that's all. Nothing for you to worry about." Bilbo paused, mangling his fingers. "But I thought that you were ... you were leaving, because of what I have said, and because you don't trust me."

"We wanted to go to the market and dragged uncle with us, sorry, Mister Baggins." Fíli said, hiding mostly behind his uncle.

"So'y." Kíli chimed in, fiddling with the toy in one of his pockets, using all the self control he possessed not to shove the toy at his favorite hobbit, so they could play together. "'An 'e go back now, 'em sleepy."

-/:\\-

After a quick lunch, and two dwarflings disappearing to their guestroom – mostly likely to take a nap – Bilbo asked Thorin to join him in the sitting room.

He cleared his throat, suddenly nervous to talk to the tall dwarf, sitting across from him in his father's favourite chair. "Did you have a pleasant time in the market today, Mister Thorin?"

"The hobbits at the market were very generous." Thorin revealed a little bewildered. When Bilbo merely rose an eyebrow in question, he clarified, "We've had to live off of barely anything for the last few weeks. Yet the hobbits insisted on charging next to nothing when we bought something there today."

Bilbo frowned. "How much money do you have?"

Thorin lowered his eyes, reached into his pockets and pulling out a few reddish-brown coins. He set them on the table, still avoiding the hobbit's gaze.

He could barely stand to acknowledging how poor he had become, how poor all his people had become, in such a small time.

"It's not a lot, I know." He finally admitted. "But it's all I've managed to save."

Bilbo leaned back in his chair, unwilling to let his pity show on his face. His mother was a strong woman, hating to be pitied by anyone, who was to say this strong willed dwarf was any different then she was? "Hard times hit us all, Mister Thorin, but things will get better."

Thorin couldn't help a pang of irritation. From what he had seen today, these hobbits were a gentlefolk, wary of outsiders, but also recognizing someone in needed of help. But having your flower-bed trampled over, by an outrageous number of hobbit children, wasn't exactly 'hard times'.

Therefore he growled, "The Shire is a prosperous land. It's inhabitants seem to be simple people. What hard times have ever befallen you?" The words came out far more bitter then he expected, but hearing the hobbit talking of a plight of his people when his own folk had lost his home and everything they had owned to a dragon, hit a nerve with the dwarf.

Such an accusation however, didn‟t sit well with the hobbit either. Bilbo fixed him with a hard stare. "My parents were ripped apart by wolves last winter. It was the worst winter in the recorded history of the Shire. You may have seen horrible things, as well as horrible people, on your travels, Thorin Oakenshield, but you have never seen wolves fight over your mother's entrails is a sick tug- o-war and have to celebrate your thirty-fourth birthday on the day after!"

Bilbo didn't care that his voice wavered, and the unshed tears made glaring at his guest all the more difficult, he was far too upset about his guests patronizing tone. "So, do not pretend I have not lived through hard times!"

"Please, don't cry, Master Baggins." Thorin said, feeling horribly guilty for making his host cry. "I'm sorry, please don't cry."

"No, I'm fine." Bilbo stated firmly, blinking away the tears. He was embarrassed enough as it was, crying in front of a stranger, not once but twice today! "I ... I usually don't just start crying in front of anybody. It's just ...."

Thorin followed the hobbits gaze to the round window, now covered in frost. "First snow of winter is right on time, as usual." Bilbo let out a weak chuckle, brushing through his locks. "I should be starting lunch."

Thorin wanted to call the hobbit back, tell him how sorry he was for upsetting him, but he didn't. He simply didn't know how, when nearly everything he had thought about these people, had turned out to be wrong.


	8. Dusty, Old, Books

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, once again, to my remarkable beta reader, Anchanee. This story couldn't live without you.

Bilbo awoke early the next morning, the snow had stopped falling, and he could see the white sheet that covered every available surface from his window. 

He decided to stay in bed, bracing himself for facing the inevitable chilly morning air, something that always brought back painful memories. 

He tried to remember if he had given Thorin, and the boys, extra blankets. Before remembering he, in fact, had. Calmed by that knowledge he simply turned around, burying himself under his own warm and soft blanket.

Somewhere outside his room, something fell to the floor. The noisy clatter was followed by a hushed curse, and a patting of barely concealed footsteps.

Bilbo sighed, shutting his eyes, willing the sounds to cease. He didn't want to face the guest who was trying to discreetly walk through his smial. If his heavy footsteps were anything to go by, the dwarf in question was Thorin. Exactly the person he didn't want to see.

It was rude to hide in his room, Bilbo knew that much. But he just wanted more time to prepare himself to face the day. And as for this smial being his home, he did exactly that!

-/:\\-

Thorin awoke very early, lingering in the warmth of the extra blankets he had received, for a long moment. He couldn't remember the last time, someone had gone out of their way to give away anything but tatter cloth. Things the owner had no use for anyway and wouldn’t miss when giving it away. But everything in this smial was of good quality and Bilbo shared it so freely.

He stretched leisurely, groggily wondering if Bilbo was awake. He still needed to apologize. The night before had offered no chance to do so, when his host had retired immediately after supper. 

He checked on his nephews, who where still asleep, and went to search for the hobbit. 

Thorin wandered aimlessly through the smial, becoming more and more irritated at the winding hallways. He managed to always end up at the kitchen, that stood void of the hobbit every time he arrived there.

He sighed, leaning against the kitchen table, wondering exactly how he'd gotten there. It still had to be early, if Bilbo wasn't even awake yet. So Thorin was alone with his need to apologize until the hobbit rose.

The dwarf reached for a random cupboard. Breakfast wouldn't cook itself after all. 

He was surprised to find the cabinet he had opened filled solely with plates, and the next one contained only cups. 

Every small door gapped open after a little while, and Thorin huffed in annoyance as he found the last of the top cupboards filled with hand cleaning brushes, and feather dusters. 

He glared at them, not wanting to admit defeat in his quest for food. But finally giving in grabbing one of the feather dusters. Well, cleaning didn't do itself either, and Thorin wasn't a particularly good cook anyway. 

So he would do his best with the duster, swiping at things with even the smallest hint of dust on them. He had to hand it to the hobbit, he kept a very clean home.

After having started in the kitchen, following the corridors he stopped in front of a room, cracking the door open slightly. Bilbo - just like in all other rooms - was in fact, not there.

He edged the door open farther, taking in a room he hadn’t seen before. Shelves lined with dusty, old, books, the floor piled with more. A wooden desk sat in the middle of the clutter, a single chair placed neatly in front of it. 

Thorin wondered who exactly had that much time for nonsense like reading?

For the former dwarven king there was land to travel, and two young dwarflings to feed. No, Thorin Oakenshield, found the idea of so many book ridiculous. As he had thought of most things concerning this hobbit, he had come across for the past few days. 

He began tidying up, the job feeling foreign in itself, and the clouds of dust he was stirring up made him cough. Thorin sneezed, the small duster slipping from his hand, clattering to the floor. 

He cursed softly. Mahal, this was harder then he'd expected.

-/:\\-

It wasn't until the sun had fully risen in the sky, and rays of light painted shining patterns on his floor, that did Bilbo finally decide to get up. 

His stomach grumbled, upset at being deprived of first breakfast, but also serving as a reminder that it was time for Second. 

He was barely finished dressing, when he heard something falling to the ground in another room. He didn’t need any more proof that a certain dwarf was still up and about his smial. He huffed in exasperation. Might as well go see the difficulty his guest was having with his home at this early time. 

-/:\\-

"Please don't touch those!" Bilbo said, a nearly unbearable sadness stealing onto his normally cheery features. 

Thorin froze, the cover of one of the old books firmly in his hand. The browned pages of the volume hung limp from it. The spine made an awful cracking sound, and the paper flaked, pieces floating to the ground. He quickly released the cover, sending the tome to the ground, where it spurt more flakes of paper. 

Bilbo made a distressed sound, cringing at the damage, before he rushed forward. Dropping to his knees and pulling the dropped books to his chest, shielding it from Thorin with his arms. The hobbit was holding onto the book as if it was his only salvation. Thorin had seen this look on the faces of his brothers-in-arms, holding on to their fallen comrades after the battle of Azanulbizar.

He hadn't meant to drop that book. He real hadn't. An old piece of scratch paper had been jammed between the tight line of paper and ink. And when Thorin had tried to pull it free, the tome had been wrenched from it's proper keeping place. 

"Master Baggins?" Thorin asked, edging slowly toward his host. 

"Can you wait outside." It was more of a command then a question, uncharacteristically firm for the hobbit.

"I … I don't know what I've done, Master Baggins. Did I upset …" the dwarf tried to explain himself, ask for the reason for the hobbits distress.

"Thorin!" Bilbo shouted, his voice sounding hoarse, and his whole body shook. "Get out!" 

The dwarf finally realized that he wasn't wanted, not even as a comforting presence. He had learned this lesson by living on the road, being shouted and glared at more than once. And staying, despite such a command, always involved consequences, so he quickly made his way out of the room.

The duster still held tight, and awkwardly, between inexperienced fingers. He tightened his grip, yet being careful not the snap the delicately carved handle. He had done enough damage for one day. 

He hated this feeling. Hated that he always did wrong by this hobbit. He wanted to be on good terms with his host. They would be living together for only Mahal knew how long. Aggravating him further, at the very beginning of their stay, didn’t bode well for any of them, but he choose to have faith. Faith that this hobbit would stay true to his earlier word, and that no harm would come to him or his boys. 

Thorin stood in the hallway, straining to hear the words the hobbit began to mumble to moment he had stepped out of the room. 

"I'm sorry, mother, I'm so sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I appreciate all the comments, and kudos. You're all just so wonderful.


	9. Fireflies, and Diaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for waiting so long, and thanks so much to my wonderful beta reader Anchanee!

Bilbo didn’t want to blame Thorin. He tried to dampen his rage with reason and truth. Yet all he wanted to do was throwing that blasted dwarf back out onto the street. He wanted to yell and rage at him, and let the dwarf know that what he'd done had been so very wrong. But he didn't. He sat, crumpled on the floor, hugging his mother's old diary to his chest as if he was able to protect the last of it that way. The scattered pieces of old, frail, paper littering the ground around him.

He couldn't throw Thorin out, he tried to reason with himself, once the stream of tears had stopped, and sobs didn't rack his body any more so that he could hold a proper thought. He could never throw anyone out, not this close to Winter, they would die out in the streets.The little dwarflings would also be alone, without their uncle they had no one. No one but a hobbit they barely knew to raise them when Thorin was found frozen on the side of the road. No, Thorin would stay right where he was, Bilbo would make sure of that.

"I'm sorry, mum." He repeated quietly, fingertips running tenderly over the length of the leather binding. It had been a while since he'd even see this book. Bilbo had been too afraid of it coming apart in his hands, to even take it off the shelf. To horrified that the paper would flake, and his mother’s words would forever be lost. And he had been right to be afraid, the outcome was proving his worst fears right.

Unsteadily he fought his way up to his feet, his hands feeling numb where they held the tome, and his legs shaking, barely able to carry his weight. He shut his eyes tight, trying to will away his anger, his frustration and most of all his sadness. He'd need to talk to his oldest dwarvish guest, and a Baggins always kept a cool head.

"Thorin?" Bilbo called, turning towards the door. Big brown eyes stared back at him.

"Mister Boggins?" Kìli asked, pushing the tangled locks from his face. The dwarfling looked between Bilbo's face and the book with a confused frown. "Are 'ou okay, Mister Boggins?" He stepped closer, wringing his hands together anxiously.

Bilbo just offered him a sad smile, not trusting his voice not to betray his real emotions.

Kìli was quite for a long moment, before asking, in a quite voice, "'Id it story time, Mister Boggins?"

"Oh, well, it's … it's not exactly a good ti ... I mean ..." Bilbo couldn't get himself to continue, not when the dwarfling gave him such a pleading look. He wiped the tears from his face, and straightened out his vest to look presentable. "Well, I guess I could read to you for a bit."

Kíli smiled tentatively, the dark strands falling back onto his face. "Fíli, Fíli! I's story time!"

The blond poked his head through the doorframe, instead of an easy smile, like his brother, he wore his usual stoic expression. "Are you ... are you alright, Mister Baggins?" He asked, his brow furrowing.

Bilbo quickly rubbed his eyes with his free hand, "Ah, yes, I'm alright. Don’t worry, Fíli. Shall we have story time in the sitting room?"

Kíli beamed, reaching out and took one of Bilbo's hands in his smaller one. The dwarfling led the hobbit to the sitting room, and right to his father's favourite chair.

Kíli sat by his feet, on the floor, and his brother right next to him. The two dwarflings stared up at him expectantly, waiting for the story to being. Bilbo cleared his throat before turning to a random page, careful not to flake the parchment any further. In a thick voice he started:

"Forelith 24, 2917

I meet a very nice lad at the market today. I had accidentally managed to single handedly knock over an entire bin of apples. He helped me to pick them all up while introducing himself. His name was: Bungo Baggins. It’s a silly name, yet I'm infatuated. But he's a Baggins! So I have little hope for anything to come of it. How can a Took ever be in a relationship with such a respectable clan? I doubt he's taken notice of me anyway. I had been toad catching by the river before, and my dress was absolutely caked with mud! I'm so embarrassed.

 

Forelith 26, 2917

I meet Bungo again today. He invited me for tea. Unfortunately I panicked, and said no although I really would have liked to.

 

Forelith 27, 2917

It was my niece's 23rd birthday today. What a lovely celebration, under the party tree we had! There was dancing, and all the cake I could eat, which is an impressive amount indeed. Mother had sewn me a wonderful blue dress.

 

Mid-year's Day, 2917

Oh, I believe I am in love! Bungo asked me for a dance under the party tree! We laughed, and danced, and I could barely stop my heart from leaping out of my chest, and straight into his palm. I couldn't help but steal every glance at him I could.

His hair shined when the sun hit it just right, and the dark green of his vest matched his eyes. He talked so kindly to the younger hobbitlings, and humored them when they wanted to play a game. How much I wanted his attention when it was elsewhere.

I don't know what's wrong with me. When I see him nothing else is important, when we are dancing it is just the two of us, and when we talk time slows down and speeds up in equal measures.

He's got a lovely smile. I know it's selfish, but I only want it to belong to me.

He kissed me. Lightly, and gently. A quick tap on the cheek, oh how I want to kiss again!

 

Afterlithe 17, 2917

Bungo asked if I would allow him to court me a few days after we danced on Mid-year's Day. I said yes, what else could I have done? He's gorgeous, and very funny, and I just want nothing else but him to court me. It's been awhile since he's asked, and I just have to write it down before I start losing the smaller details!

He surprised me by taking me to-"

 

The page drifted off into a clutter of chipped parchment and torn parts. Bilbo stopped reading, and stared at the wreck, smiling to himself.

"Where'd ey go, Mister Boggins?" Kíli asked, tugging lightly on the hobbit's trousers, urging him to continue.

He gently closed the book, caressing it’s binding, placing it onto the side table. Then he did something that he thought was impossible just a few short minutes ago.

He forgave, and he forgot. He didn’t need a book to remember his mother, his parents. Belladonna had told him the story about their courtship so many times that he already knew it by heart.

"Well, they went catching fireflies that night. The moon was out, and it lit up the ground as much as the fireflies did."

Kíli gasped, his eyes blown wide. "Mama used to 'ay the lonely Moutain 'ad the glowy bugs. I never 'ee one though."

Bilbo smiled, he felt the tears pricking at his eyes but his smile was wide and genuine. He suggested, "Maybe they come to the Shire every year as soon as winter is over."

Kíli's smile widened, "'ll 'ou take us to see 'em, Mister Boggins?"

“Of course I will, Kìli." He promised.

-/:\\-

Thorin lean against the doorframe. He'd heard the story, of Bilbo's mother and father's courtship. He didn't want to believe he'd ruined it. Broken the pages, and the story's concealed inside of them. He couldn't just accept that he'd wrecked such a precious past. The past bore bright times, and without it Thorin would only every focus on the bad happening around him.

But he had, and it so bitterly reminded him of how he'd had to sell his mother's wedding rings, for almost nothing, so that his family had food one day more.

"Master Baggins." Thorin said, allowing his presence to be noticed.

Bilbo jumped at the sound of his voice, turning swiftly around in his chair to face the door.

"I am truly very sor-"

"Thorin, Thorin," Bilbo said gently, easily cutting the dwarf off. He smiled, his honey brown curls bouncing slightly on his head. "It's alright, really, it is."

Thorin couldn't help but notice the slight tug he felt in his chest.


	10. Matters of Admiration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the heart and soul of this fic, Anchanee, for beta reading. Also just thanks to everyone who leaves comments, and kudos, it means a lot!

Thorin remembers a time where he didn't survive on the pity and greed of others. He remembers being a strong, and fierce dwarvish warrior. How he'd cut off the hand of the white orc, Azog, when he had attacked the many dwarves fleeing Erebor. He had been a King, a warrior, a loyal friend, a stubborn brother, an uncle, and maybe if Smaug hadn't attacked, he could have one day find a spouse, as was suitable for a King.

Ever since this morning, Thorin had begun to realize that something ... something he had sworn would never befall him, had happened.

Mahal did not create his dwarves to love. Dwarves admired, they respected their partner enough to commit their lives to them. They gave their lives to protect them, due to a deep seeded loyalty as unmovable as the stone. A thin veil separated admiration from love. But Mahal was not cruel to his creations, such boarders were there to protect them. Dwarves were made to withstand corruption. Love was dangerous, love made those affected by it, do dangerous things.

So Thorin forcibly ignored the jerky tugs of affection, because it was the hobbit who caused them. It was the hobbit and his frustratingly curly, honey brown, hair, and his eyes the color of polished sinhalite gems. The way the corners of his mouth moved before he smiled, the way he seemed to always know what to say, to make things alright again. How kind his words were, and how easily he was able to forgive.

Bilbo was confusing, he was luring, and Thorin was unable to decide whether he trust him or not. He'd seen enough, wars and death, a dragon stealing his home, to know better, to be more than just weary, but Bilbo seemed to just be, well, Bilbo Baggins. So he was absolutely sure that he was not "in love" with Bilbo Baggins.

Dwarvish love was rare, and such connections were forged over decades of companionship, not over the course of no more than five days. But the thought of not forging a bond with the hobbit felt wrong.

The emotions were confusing, and every thought concerning the hobbit seemed to jumble up until it was the only thing Thorin could think about.

The dwarf ran a hand through his thick mane, a few knotted strains coming undone in the process. He'd been shying away from the hobbit ever since this morning, the ruined tome a heavy weight on his mind. Thorin had hidden in the guest room the second lunch had been finished. He needed time to think this through.

A soft tap could be heard, before the shiny brass knob was twisted.

"Uncle?" Fìli asked, his fingers curling and uncurling at his sides as he stood in the doorframe. "I wanted to talk to you." The dwarfling intertwined his fingers in front of himself.

Thorin looked at his oldest nephew, surprised to see that Kìli was not with him. Usually those two were inseparable.

"Kìli wanted to take a nap." Fìli said, as if reading his thoughts. He stepped farther into the room, letting the door shut quietly behind them. The king in exile could practically see the weight of a heavy question sitting on the prince's shoulders.

Thorin knew that his nephew was sharp, having lived his entire life on the road, Fíli had been forced to learn things. He'd adapted to what he had seen and lived through, and even when Thoirn had wished to protect him from everything that wished him harm, he had not always succeeded. But nevertheless his nephew could not have picked up on something even he was barely beginning to understand.

Fìli had been watching his uncle for the better part of the day. He'd seen the expression on his uncle's face when he'd tried to apologize for whatever had happened concerning the book Bilbo had been reading from. It was the same pleading look he remembered seeing from his father when he was barely out of his toddling years. 

A jadeite necklace belonging to his mother had gone slipping out of his father's hands, several of the stones splintering, and shattering, on the ground. His father had stared on in mute horror, before staring up at Dìs with such an apologetic expression she forgave him almost instantly. He remembered seeing his father's loving expression follow her for the rest of the day. Or maybe it was admiration, like the others dwarves had for their partners. Whatever the emotion was Thorin had expressed it in quite glances whenever the hobbit wasn't looking. 

"Are you in love with him?" Fìli blurted out. The blond usually choose his words more carefully, but now he obviously couldn't contain himself. 

He'd heard stories, of course he had, stories of Men who had faced great challenges to be together with their true loves. He thought they were romantic, but none of the other dwarf children he'd meet in other towns had. They would stare at him blankly before saying that the stories were just that, stories. Uncle Thorin worked hard for him, for Kìli too, he deserved this. He deserved to find someone to love after all that's he's sacrificed, even if the other was not of the same race. The hobbit seemed decent enough, if what he's seen of him was genuine. 

Thorin narrowed his eyes, fixing his nephew with a steely gaze, or so he thought. He knew he couldn't bid his time for long, that the prince was still waiting for an answer, unfazed by his uncles glare he had become used to by now.

The older dwarf thought of his people. Grocers, and thieves? His people sold their body's, and sold their craftsmanship, for wages that did not even feed their families at the end of the day.

Thorin would put this silly notion behind him, he needed to find his people a home, before he could have one for himself. If he was truly in love with Bilbo then ...

"No." He said, pushing away the thought. "Dwarves are not a race that loves."

"But Durins' do. We love so easily. I love Kìli, and I know he feels the same way. I love you, and I love my mother." Fìli pulled at a loose sting at the bottom of his tunic. "We have a habit of loving anyone who loves us ... and Bilbo ..." He shook his head, golden strains falling into his face.

"No dwarf has ever found love outside their own race."

Fìli just shrugged.

-/:\\-

Bilbo was becoming more and more worried about his oldest dwarvish guest. After Thorin had almost destroyed his mother's diary, the dwarf had becoming excessively careful, and weary, in his interactions with him.

When he'd made second breakfast Thorin had hardly ate anything, which worried the hobbit greatly, the dwarf being so skinny to begin with. And he seemed more lost in thought as the day wore on.

It was his fault, Bilbo was sure of it. He had thrown Thorin out of his study. Had told him to leave, when he had been trying to help. Bilbo had been distraught, and Thorin had taken the brunt of his emotions. The dwarf was probably afraid of him now, or better: afraid that Bilbo would force his nephews out into the frost ridden hands of winter. As if this was even possible.

It wasn't until Bilbo had started to preparing lunch that Thorin wandered into the kitchen.

"Good day." He said, and Thorin stumbled back, almost as if he just realized, that the hobbit was in the same room with him. Bilbo tilted his head in confusion, the spoon he'd been using to scramble the eggs hovering above the pan.

"Good ... good day." The dwarf replied, hanging his head slightly.

Bilbo returned his attention to the eggs, beating them around the pan, before sidestepping to another pot. He was quick to grab the ladle, stirring the chunks of meat, and vegetables, into the broth. The beef stew was coming along nicely, the beef turning a dark brown, a light, deliciously smelling steam rising from the pot.

He looked at the eggs, they've turned a fluffy light yellow, so he placed several slices of beef atop them. He hurried across the hall, grabbing a basket full of bread rolls. They were a few days old, but hadn't had time for baking anything fresh lately. So they would have to do. He jogged back to the kitchen, putting the basket on the counter, and went back to attending to the eggs.

Bilbo felt a shiver going up his spine. He stilled momentarily, before turning around slowly.

Thorin had taken a seat at the table and was now fixing Bilbo with a stormy blue gaze. The dwarf regarded him with something unreadable, but the smallest sliver of curiosity could be seen through the scrutiny.

"Um, hello …" Bilbo said again, with a small and nervous laugh. 

"Hello." Thorin repeated, not taking his eyes off of Bilbo.

"Lunch will be ... ready soon ..." Bilbo said, swallowing thickly before slowly turning back to the pan.

"Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There have been very large time gaps between updates lately, but the next chapter has already been written and will be out soon!


	11. The Smell of Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter is approaching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta-reader, Anchanee, she's just wonderful, and also thank you to everyone who is leaving comments, and kudos.

Sunlight did not dance across the floor, eager to let others show their talents, nor did a hearths spread warmth through walls. Not a single thrush sang outside the small circular window. A howling wind made the house shutter, and creak. Leaves rustled violently on the swaying branches, ready to tear them down in a moment’s notice.

Thorin woke late in the morning, his face was pressed into the plush pillow, and one arm hung off the side of the bed. The worn, but warm, quilt lay low across his back, and his tunic had somehow rode up during the night exposing his stomach to the sheets. He was quick to pull the quilt back up to his chin, reveling in the warmth that came with it.

It had been difficult to sleep last night, his nephews had gone to bed hours before him, so had Bilbo. That had left him tossing and turning in blankets that seemingly wouldn’t warm up. A icy air had settled into the very bones of the smial. 

A storm showed the first signs of settling over the Shire that night. As the sun began to set, thick, grey clouds rolled in, soon followed by overpowering gusts of wind.

Bilbo had filled every fireplace with heavy logs so that the fires would burn through the night. He had even gone through the trouble of dragging several small piles of wood into the hobbit hole. Thorin had offered his help because the small hobbit seemed to be having a hard time, trying to bring in the heavy timber, but his offer was refused kindly.

"All those poor dwarves, forced to stay outside during this horrible weather." Bilbo had said, his eyes locked on the part of the road he could see through his kitchen window. "I do hope they are all alright."

Thorin had nodded solemnly, perfectly aware that his people would certainly not be alright in this weather. The lands they have travelled before, had never been this cold. Now he felt guilty for stumbling upon the hobbit. Had he not met Bilbo, he and his nephews would share their fate: living alone, out in the cold, freezing to death.

Thorin closed his eyes again, focusing on the quite calm of the smial. But now that he listened he realized it wasn't quite so quiet.

Thud...Thud...Thud...

A pause.

Thud...Thud...Thud...

The sound was muffled, but Thorin could tell the sound of a falling axe from just about anywhere.

He throw back his covers, wincing when the freezing air hit him, and ignored the chill of the cold wooden floor when he stood up. The blisters on his feet had begun to heal, and the soreness of his limbs was slowly receding. Yet every step across the frozen floor shot spikes of pain up his spine.

He moved cautiously to the back door, opening it slowly. The wind blew past him, clawing the little warmth it held out of the smial. He shuddered, regretted not have put on the rest of his clothes before going out to investigate the noise.

Bilbo was standing in front of a finely cut stump of a tree, a log placed atop it.

Thud...

He dug the blade of an old axe into it.

The hobbit's face was a red all over, he was panting and exhaled small puffs of white air. He had a green scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, but worked with bare feet. 

The dwarf suddenly felt a wave of worry wash over him. The little creature must've been freezing out here!

"Master Baggins?" Thorin asked, causing the hobbit to look up at him in the dim morning light.

"Oh, good morn-" he managed, before a particularly violent squall had him stumbling forward. He caught himself just in time, before he could stagger forward to far. He laughed humorlessly. "A bit windy, isn't it?"

Thorin stared at him for a moment, his hands were red, and raw, and the tips of his toes had turned an a pale blue.

"You have to get inside." Thorin said, a hard edge to his voice. He recognized the signs of early stages of frostbite when he saw them. His sister had lost most of her toes by subjecting herself to the coldest places for the night, so that her sons would be as warm as possible.

Bilbo followed his guest's gaze to his feet, seeing the unhealthy color. He couldn't help being reminded of his father.

"I'm fine, really. I have to finish up here, before I can even-"

"Get inside. Now." Thorin growled, taken several large steps to where Bilbo stood. He stopped right in front of him, almost chest-to-chest, towering over the smaller figure. The hobbit stared up at him with wide, puzzled eyes.

It was odd how the hobbit did not cower before him, or ran to obey a his command, like most dwarves did. Or that he didn't sneer at Thorin’s overbearance, and throw him out, like the men. Thorin knew how terrifying he could appear. He'd seen fear on the faces of many foe, but for such a small, easily broken, creature he just seemed to be nothing more than a mystery.

Thorin knew he wasn't in control here, he was bluffing of course when ordering the hobbit around. What would he do if Bilbo refused? What could he do? Nothing! He wouldn't dare to lay a hand on his host, he was absolutely powerless.

The hobbit didn't not release his grip on the hilt of the axe and only started back at Thorin.

"Fine. Then let me do it." The dwarf said, quickly pulling the axe out of Bilbo's grip.

"I - I can't let you do that!" Bilbo cried out, trying to reclaim his tool. "You'll freeze to death in your night clothes."

Thorin walked over to the stump, running a hand over the frosty surface. The numbness in his digits was painful when they touched the wooden surface.

"I'd rather have it be me then you, Master Baggins." Thorin said, raising the axe, and letting it fall onto the log. It separated into two halves at the first swing.

Bilbo's expression softened. "Let's get inside, I'll put on some tea."

-/:\\-

Bilbo went around the kitchen, finally regaining a feeling in his fingers and toes. Yet the angry welts on his hands was still to chilled to hurt. He fumbled with the kettle, putting it on the fire he had started.

"It's not exactly time for breakfast yet, but I can fetch some biscuits from the pantry if you'd like." He said offhandedly, trying to fill the heavy silence that was filling the room.

"No, thank you." Thorin responded, was stand at the wall, watching over Bilbo while he made tea.

The tension was nearly suffocating when the dwarf spoke again. "What where you doing outside, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo fumbled a bit. He had been trying to distract himself from the dwarf by focusing on the tea. "Oh, um, just chopping up some extra wood for the hearths."

"I could have done it if you'd asked, Master Baggins." Thorin said, crossing his arms in an attempt to conserve body heat.

"Bilbo."

"I'm sorry?"

"You can call me Bilbo. And I didn’t want to trouble you, that’s why I have not asked." The hobbit said, finally deeming the tea ready, and pouring it into mugs.

"I'm greatly indebted to you, Master ... Bilbo." Thorin let the name roll of his tongue awkwardly. "I would have done anything you asked without questioning it." 

Bilbo didn't answer, just handed Thorin his mug, before taking a seat at the table. The dwarf mirrored his action and took a seat across him, his warm mug held tightly between both of his freezing hands. 

"Why?" The dwarf asked, his fingers tapping absently against the porcelain.

"Why, what?" Bilbo asked, the mug stilled halfway to his lips.

"Why were you out cutting wood when the weather is so bad outside?" Thorin inquired. "You can practically smell the rain, a storm is brewing."

Bilbo gave the dwarf a sad, and almost reassuring half smile, before stating simply. "Just in case." 

Thorin didn't ask what that meant.


	12. Before a Hobbit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to my beta reader, Anchanee! Also to everyone who has left comments, kudos, and bookmarks!

They had been walking ever since Kíli could remember. Never staying in one place for to long. Men were a spiteful race. They spit, and sneered. They cursed violently at him if he got in their way. But he was used to that. Things had always been this way.

His uncle had gotten a job at the market place in a bustling town called Bree once. His mother wouldn't tell him what kind of work it was, but it allowed them to share a room in a shabby inn, and for that Kíli was always reminded to be grateful.

He got hurt a lot at his new job, though. He now walked with a nagging limp, and pain shot across his face whenever he tried to sit down. Thorin would return to the inn with a busted lip, a hobble in his step, and a small pouch of copper coins almost every day so they could stay in town. Mother would never question his injures, just silently patch him back up, before meeting his forehead with her own. Whispering something he could not hear. Fìli told him not to ask either. 

It wasn't long before they had to leave again. They rarely stay somewhere more than a fortnight. The men would become angry if they overstayed their welcome. But honestly Kíli didn't want to stay any longer in Bree, he didn't want to see his uncle come back hurt anymore, and the children here were mean to him. They'd pull at his short ponytail, and called him weak, and a girl. They learned to spit from their parents, and constantly insulted him for being different. 

They were back out on the roads meant for horses, and wagons, traveling aimlessly in search of work, and shelter. 

It started to get cold again. It wasn't that bad at first, and the worn tunic he'd gotten last Durin's Day kept the worst of the cold at bay. But, as always, things got worse by the day. Icy winds began to blow, easily piercing his clothes. The freezing stopped when his mother covered him with her old fur lined coat.

He had smiled at her, and she had smiled back. 

-/:\\-

They had been walking for a few days, and his uncle had promised them that there was a town up ahead. So, they walked, and when they stopped because they were at the end of their strength, Thorin kept walking.

-/:\\- 

"Kíli." Fíli had said, early the next morning. The sun hadn't returned to the sky yet, and the rolling hills blanketed with dead grass appeared ere. "Kíli, get up. We need to go."

The youngest of the princes had looked up at his brother with sleepy eyes. He could tell something was wrong, Fíli's voice had been laced with well concealed horror.

"Get up, quickly. C'mon." Fíli had said, all but pulling him up, and away from where he and his mother had slept on the icy ground. She had shielded him with her body to keep him from shivering due to the frost.

Kíli had yawned, stumbling over his own feet, before turning to wake his mother. Yet Fíli had grabbed his arm, and begun to pull him along the road.

"Bu-wait! Wha 'bout ma?" Kíli had cried out, trying and failing to pull his sleeve out of his brother's grip.

"She ... she needs to ... to go back home for a bit." The blonde had said, and had remained quiet after that revelation, until they had been far away. 

Kíli hadn't known why he had cried. Only that the freezing tears had stung his cheeks, and that every step away from his mother had brought pain. He was worried about his ma. But she was strong, and brave, she would get wherever she needed to go, and be back before he knew it. She always came back, no matter what.

Then they had come across a little town, with little people in brightly colored outfits. Everything had smelled like bread, and frozen earth. 

-/:\\-

"And then you all came to my home to eat supper?" Bilbo asked, his heart ached from hearing what had happened to the boys’ mother, but he tried to put up a calm front.

"Um...'ell 'e found Unca first." The dwarfling stated, swinging his feet absent minded on the too-tall kitchen chair. 

Kíli had stumbled into the kitchen soon after Thorin had left, taking Bilbo’s generous offer of a hot bath. Once he'd been given a few cookies to coax him into speech, the dwarfling became very animated, and had begun to chat about anything, and everything.

"Unca was waitin' by da road for us." He stopped, taking another bite of an almond cookie before continuing. "'E looked sick, when 'e got 'ere, and 'en said we 'ould stay 'with 'ou for the night."

"Just one night?" Bilbo asked, a bit puzzled as to why the dwarf would think that he would force his homeless guests out of his house on the very next day. 

"Uh-huh, I don't 'ink Unca 'ought 'e 'ould stay long." Kíli said, unceremoniously shoving the rest of the cookie into his mouth before grabbing the last one. "'E don't 'ave money. Not 'nough to 'ay 'ome place nice like 'is."

Bilbo smiled faintly. "Well, you all can stay however long you like."

Kíli beamed at him before his smile fell slightly. Anxiously he asked, "Mister Boggins ... 'an Mama stay too? Once she 'omes back?" He looked up at the hobbit with large pleading eyes.

Bilbo felt tears welling up in his eyes, and his heart clench painfully when he hugged the little dwarf and promised. "Yes, Kíli, my door will always be open for her, and for any of your family"

The dwarfling smiled again, before looking towards the front door. 

"I 'ope she okay." He mumbled. "It 'ight 'art to snow soon. Unca says so." He turned back to Bilbo. "and I hate snow."

Bilbo could only nod in genuine agreement.


	13. Behind Unlocked Doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the rating has gone up. *winkwink*
> 
> Okay, so, thank you to my beta reader, Anchanee. Everything would be monumentally horrible without her.

Thorin was tremendously grateful when Bilbo had offered him a hot bath. Because although it was quite warm in the smial, compared to the freezing temperatures outside, his feet and hands were still wet. They had become numb, and he was worried that he would drop the mug when he tried to raised it to his lips.

So as soon as he had finished his tea he rushed to the bathroom, and started to fill the large tub with blessedly hot water. He found himself reluctant to remove his tunic and loose fitting trousers, that had been his only protection against the cold for such a long time.

He chided himself quietly. A bit of cold air wasn't going to kill him!

He stripped quickly, before stepping into the engulfing heat of the water. Groaning blissfully when, for the first time in months, welcoming heat surrounded him.

He washed quickly, using a flowery smelling soap to clean his hair. In the past he had never had time to linger in a hot tub. There had always been somebody outside the door, demanding entrance, keeping him from relaxing completely. And that was if the shabby inn’s they had lived in over the past years even HAD a bath-room. 

He couldn't help but notice that the soap carried the same scent of as his host. Sweet and soft, like the fume of honey and morning dew, a soft mist, and the smell of a long forgotten home, combined in flawless waves of beauty hidden from the eyes but there nevertheless. But Bilbo’s scent lingered around; the hearty fragrances of leather, and the slightest tinge of pipe weed, that was uniquely him.

Thorin breathed deeply, the smell of the hobbit surrounding him. It was addicting, and he could feel his heart pounding against his ribs.

Thorin found his hand following the trail of hair down to his belly. It was ... strange. He hadn't wanted to touch himself ever since he'd taken up his former shameful occupation. He had been a whore. He had had people touching him both day, and night. He hadn’t needed, nor wanted, anyone touching him, not even himself. But now, he didn't want to stop. He felt intoxicated.

His hand trailed farther down until it ran along his shaft, and he was surprised to hear himself release a breathy sigh. He stoked himself hesitantly, working up a slow, yet steady rhythm.

He tried not to think about his host. About Bilbo touching him like this. About the hobbit hands wrapped around him. About hesitant touches, and too quick kisses stolen from and by his host. Yet the more he denied himself these fantasies of the hobbit, the more they pressed to the forefront of his mind until he simply couldn’t fight them anymore. 

He wondered what Bilbo would be like touching him like this. Would the hobbit prefer jerking him hard, and fast, aiming for immediate release, revelling in the power he had over Thorin. Or maybe his touches would be slow, and gentle, dragging out their encounter, enjoying the sounds the dwarf would make only for him. Would Bilbo like to bring him to the edge just to deny him release until he was mad with desire? Or stroke him to completion again, and again, until he was a shaking mess.

Thorin ran his thumb over the slit of his erection, wiping away a bead of precome that had gathered there, a quite moan escaping him. The strokes had become quick, almost frantic now.

Bilbo wouldn't use his body. At least not in his fantasies. He could never be like the men he'd been with. Bilbo would want to share his passion, not just take what he wanted, not just use him. 

Thorin's other hand reached up to play with one of his nipples. His fingers brushing over the cold metal of his iron nipple ring, and he sunk his teeth into his lip, suppressing a whimper. He pulled the ring gently, and wondered if Bilbo would do the same.

No, Bilbo would never touch him, his hobbit deserved better than him. He was dirty. He had been fucked in dark alleys, and behind the backs of housewives by unfaithful husbands. Bilbo could never touch him, not in the way Thorin wanted. But by Mahal, how much he wanted his fantasy to be real.

He felt a blush covering his face when he thought about how wanton he must seem, fucking into his own hand.

There was a quite rap on the door, followed by the voice of his host.

"Um ... Thorin?"

The dwarf stilled his hands immediately, opening and closing his mouth in some attempt to speak. His mouth suddenly felt dry, and he felt sharp spikes of regret shooting up his spine.

"Y-yes, Master Baggins?" Thorin yelped, his voice sounding gravelly and choked.

"Just Bilbo. I didn’t mean to interrupt your private time …" The hobbit said, sounding a bit guilty. 

"You're not … what do you think your interrupting? I'm just … it's not like I'm …" The dwarf made a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

"Well ... I just wanted to let you know that I'm going out to pick some things up from the marketplace before it starts to snow, and Kíli wanted to come along ..."

"That … that's fine." Thorin replied gruffly, having to suppress a moan at the way his erection pressed eagerly against his palm.

He quickly removed his hand in mortification, clenching it into a tight fist at his side. Bilbo was just outside of very unlocked door and he couldn't stop playing with himself for one minute? He took a deep breath through his nose, summoning the last shreds of his self-control. He opened his mouth to speak when the voice behind the door piped up again.

"Do you need anything?" The hobbit said. "Since I'm going out anyway, I mean … I could pick something up for you if you want."

"No, thank you, Master Bilbo." Thorin managed to answer, willing himself to sound calm and collected.

"Just Bilbo." He heard the hobbit mumble before he spoke louder again, "Well, Kíli and I will be off then."

"Goodbye ..." Thorin mumbled, listening to almost inaudible footsteps leading away from the door.

Long after the front door had opened, and closed, he took his member back into hand cautiously. The unexpected appearance of his fantasies had not dampened his arousal. If anything he was more desperate to continue, then before. 

He didn't bother going slow when he began again. His touches were hard, and rough. The stokes uneven, and sloppy, but everything just felt so good, so unbelievably good and within moments Thorin came all over his hand with a husky moan. He slumped against the wall of the tub as the aftershocks racked his body. His knees felt weak and he was sure that he had no chance of getting out of the tub for the foreseeable future.The corners of his mind got hazy when, for the first time in forever, he was basking in the afterglow of an orgasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried.


	14. Snow Comes Ever On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Anachanee!

Kìli babbled happily, about the snow, the marketplace and the wonders that could be bought there. He was dressed in one of Bilbo's warm coats. It was far to loose on the dwarfling's shoulders, but he snuggled into it nonetheless. Bilbo held Kìli's hand, and a basked willow in one hand. 

Bilbo shivered violently. Wrapping the little dwarf into his warmest coat left him with a thinner one who wasn’t able to fend of the cold entirely. His breath came out in puffs of smoke, and gusts of wind blew through his heavy clothes.

"Why, Bilbo Baggins!" Came a particularly posh exclamation, oh, by the grace of the Green Lady he knew that voice.

Bilbo sighed. Forcing a smile onto his face he turned towards the hobbit lass approaching him.

"Lobelia." Bilbo greeted.

Kìli peeked out from behind Bilbo, staring at the hobbit lass curiously.

"It's odd seeing you out and about. Being inside for so long is neither natural nor normal for a hobbit!" Lobelia said, stopping short in front for her cousin. She pointed a folded pale yellow umbrella at his chest. "What could you have possibly been doing, that's got you stuck indoors nearly the entire year? I'll have you known that I'm not to pleased with your absence during my party last ..."

She paused mid-sentence, finally noticing the small figure clutching nervously to Bilbo’s cloak.

"Bilbo Baggins!" She cry out. "I wasn't aware you had a child? Let alone a dwarven child. Who's his mother? Or, um, is he the child from his father's earlier relations?"

Bilbo was about to stutter an explanation when the dwarfling spoke up, "I don' have a Papa, Ma'am." Kìli said quietly when Lobelia looked down at him in wonder. "I' 'ere 'ith my Unca."

She smiled smugly before a sly grin spread on her face. "What a scandal! A respectable Baggins is not only intimate with one of those barbaric dwarves, but is also raising his lovers nephew!"

That accusation however sat very ill with the hobbit. "Now listen here, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. I will not have you insulting my guests. And who I am, or am not in relations with, is absolutely none of your concern! I am helping those in need, and I will not have YOU judging my actions. Are we clear, Mrs Sackville?" Bilbo huffed, an angry tint covering his cheeks.

Lobelia pouted before nodding before changing the subject. "Anyway, that was not what I came to talk to you about." She shook her head slightly, running her mitten clad hands together before leaning in to continue in a barely audible whisper. "They've found a body. A little ways passed Brandywine Bridge. It was a dwarf. The rangers said to expect more. There had been many of them in the area lately, and they've been freezing to death in the night. They are dangerous, Bilbo! How long have you allowed that dwarf to stay with you?"

"Not long, but long enough to know he is not going to hurt me." Bilbo said, feeling a little offended on Thorin's behalf.

"Don't be surprised if you wake up to his hands around your throat." She warned, waving off his protests as she strolled away the same path she'd come.

"Who 'as 'hat, Mister Boggins?" Kìli asked, losing his grip on Bilbo's cloak. "And wha'd 'e say 'en 'e was bein' quite?"

"That was someone I don't want you, Fìli, and even Thorin speaking to!" He huffed, taking hold of Kìli's hand and bustling off towards the market place.

-/:\\-

The snow began to fall suddenly, and in blankets. Kìli held Bilbo's hand in a white knuckled gripped, concern written all over his face.

"It's alright." The hobbit tried to assure him. He wondered if the dwarfling could hear the uncertainty in his voice. The slight waver that gave away his fear. 

Kìli turned to him, wide eyed and panicked.

"W-we can't make it back to Bag End." Bilbo tried to smile despite his worries. "So, we're going to the forge."

Kìli looked at him with confusion. Bilbo thought of imposing on one of his relatives. A few Tooks lived nearby, but he doubted they could reach their smials by the time the blizzard fully set in. The forge was much closer, and the path had yet to be fully concealed. 

"We'll be able to light a fire to keep us warm." Bilbo elaborated. "And we'll be protected from the worst of the blizzard once inside."

The dwarf only nodded, and speed up his steps.

-/:\\-

Thorin looked out of the small round window worriedly. The first snow had begun to fall, and yet their was still no sight of the hobbit, and his nephews.

When he had finished his bath, Thorin stumbled into the kitchen, finding two plates of fresh, albeit cold, breakfast waiting for him. He feasted on his with a vigour that he had long since forgot he had, and left the other plate untouched for his oldest nephew. He washed his dish, and placed it neatly in the cabinet. He was unsure if it was the proper cabinet for plates, but he was fairly certain bowls, and plates, were of the same making, and thus belonged in the same place.

Thorin looked around momentarily. With the exception of a sleeping Fìli, he was alone in the smial. At loss of what to do he wandered into the sitting room. It wasn't terribly cold, but he wondered if his host would appreciate if he would started a small fire to warm the house for his return.

He stacked several logs into the hearth. After lighting it he reveled in the heat it brought. He breathed in deeply, savouring the smell of something akin to pine.

Thorin found that he very much liked feeling so comfortably warm. He had missed that feeling for such a long time.

-/:\\-

Bilbo couldn't remember the time he had been so cold. He prayed to Eru that the howling wind, and thick blowing snow, did not mark the beginning of a second Fell Winter. He wasn’t sure if he could live through another one.

The hobbit was grateful he and Kìli had made it to the forge. The sheet metal roof banged around noisily, threatening to collapse at the ruff treatment through the wind, but the rafters held steady.

"Now we'll just need to start a fire here." Bilbo mumbled to himself. He riffled through the contents of a heavy looking table. Smiling triumphantly when he held up an old flint, and steel.

After several strikes over a pit he had filled with paper, wood and coal a fire flicked up merrily, quickly heating the room.

"There we are!" Bilbo said, replacing the flint before dusting the powdery residue from his hands.

"Mister Boggins." Kìli said, hands fisted tightly buried in his oversized coat. "Are 'e goin' to die? Fìli says if it 'ets to cold things beg'n to die."

Bilbo face fell. "W-what? No. Of course not." He said, but his words didn't seem to help the two tears that fell from the dwarfling's eyes.

"I want Unca!" Kìli sniffled, his hand coming up quickly to wipe the freezing tears from his face.

"We can't go home now, Kìli." Bilbo said gently ushering him closer toward the burning pit. "Come closer to the fire. You look like you're freezing." 

Kìli obeyed wordlessly. His face scrunched up in an attempt to look brave. He sat on the dirt floor, and looked up at Bilbo, fully expecting him to join him. It had been a long time since Bilbo had not minded dirt, but sitting on the floor was just unclean! The hobbit slowly took a seat, only taking a moment to worry about the consequences on his trousers. 

"How about a story?" The hobbit said, shifting uncomfortably on the hard ground.

"Abo't dwarves?"

Bilbo paused. "A story about dwarves and hobbits?"

Of course there was no story about dwarves and hobbits, but when Kìli nodded, Bilbo simply invented a great whimsical tale with those characters at the very heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I've been forgetting to add this for a bit, but I feel bad about make you wonderful people wait so long for an update so I'm going to start posting small unofficial snippets of the upcoming chapter on my tumblr.


	15. A Whimsical Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A story for Kìli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!

Once upon a time, there was a paper dwarf. And although he had gold and jewels aplenty, he was not happy. 

The troves of precious gems did little to quench his thirst for happiness, and belonging. So, he took to the streets as a lowly beggar.

Alas, even as an urchin the other dwarves did not accept him. They walked past him, turning a blind eye.

'I need to get others to notice me!' He thought, but he had nothing to achieve this. His gems were gone, and he had no skills to offer.

While wandering through the markets a merchant called out to him.

"You there!" He hollered. Motioning for the paper dwarf to come closer. "Now, my dear son, I have just the wares for you." 

The merchant gestured towards his stall. The shelves were lined with jars of ink. Feathers, and quills, littered the table tops. 

"But, dear sir, how might your stationery help me?" Said the paper dwarf. "I need to get noticed, not waste my time on the art of drawing and writing."

"But, my dearest, believe me, this is just what you need." The merchant explained, holding up a jar of shining black ink. "Draw upon your beautiful paper skin. Make them notice you. Then you will be happy."

The paper dwarf was enthralled, but also deeply saddened. "I am poor. I cannot afford your ink."

"Then own me a single favor, for I may one day need one. I will remember you then."

The paper dwarf nodded as the ink was handed to him. He held onto it tightly, as the dying held onto their very last breath. "A favor it shall be." He promised.

So he inked his skin with letters and pictures. He drew upon his body to make himself beautiful to others. Day after day he would create himself anew.

And it worked!

The paper dwarf was envied by all. Everyone saw his paper skin, inked to please them. But once the dwarves saw his beauty they cared no more. So he was left again.

Alone. With paper skin he didn't want to call his own.

It was much later that the inked dwarf stumbles once again upon the merchant. 

"Merchant!" He cried. "You have lied to me. Your ink did not make me happy. It has ruined me!"

The merchant merely smiled. "It has? Then..." He reached into his pocket, and pulled out of small glass of white paint. "Take this, my son. For it is only, four gold pieces, and that is the price of happiness. It will remove the black from your skin and leave you pure once again."

"But, merchant, I am but a a beggar. I have no money to purchase your paint."

"Then a favour will do. A favour will do, my dear boy!"

"I accept." And the bargain was done.

The dwarf with the inky black skin covered himself with the white paint. The blackness faded, but did not disappear.

Although he was almost pure again he was still unhappy, still alone.

It was years later that the painted dwarf found he merchant again.

"Liar!" He howled. "The white ink did not worked! One can still see the lines of black ink shining through!"

"Of course you can!" Said the merchant, reaching into an oversized pack. He held up a jar of blue paint. "This will hide the paint, my dear. No one will be able to see black nor white on your skin."

"I will not be tricked again." Spat the dwarf, but the merchant only smiled.

"All I ask is for one favor in return." Said the merchant, handing the painted dwarf the jar. "Only one."

The painted dwarf nodded.

Later that night, he painted himself blue. Dwarves could not see the white. They could not see the black nor any part of his paper skin. He was not happy this way, but accepting that this was all he could ever get.

Several more years passed and the merchant found the blue dwarf.

"I've come to collect my favors." Said the merchant, shoving a small creature towards the blue dwarf. "I need to get rid of that. I am using one of my favors. Take it off of my hands."

As quickly as he'd come the merchant was gone. Leaving the blue dwarf with ... a paper hobbit. Alas, the hobbit's paper skin was not smooth, as his own had been so long ago. It had been wrinkled, and crushed. His skin has been folded time and time again. Making him appear small and despairing.

"Paper hobbit, I take you in, as I am in the merchants debt." Said the blue dwarf, allowing the little creature into the ramshackle hut he called his home.

Months passed before the paper hobbit spoke.

"Sir, I must implore you to answer a single question that has been eating my mind ever since coming here."

When the blue dwarf nodded, the hobbit told. "I have never seen a blue dwarf, nor red, nor green, nor silver. But I stand in front of you and ask you how."

"You are mistaken, little one, for this is not my true color. I was once a paper dwarf. Wealthy beyond measure."

"But what happened, my good sir? Where are your riches, and your paper skin?"

"I did not belong with the wealthy, and less so with the poor. So I gave away my gold in search of happiness. But I couldn’t find it.

"I found the merchant and he gave me black ink. He said if I painted myself beautifully others would notice, and that would make me happy.

“It work but only for a very short time, so he gifted me white ink. I used the white ink to hide the blackness of my skin. Alas, you could still see the grey shining through.

“The merchant exchanged one more favor for blue ink to hid both white and black. Thus I am blue."

"Silly dwarf!" Called the paper hobbit. "You cannot find happiness because you are not you! You've managed to put up barriers of paint around your true self."

The blue dwarf stuttered. "If I was to rid myself of paint would I once again know what it was like to feel joy?"

"We will know if you'll allow me." Said the paper hobbit.

It took a very long time to chip away the dwarf's barriers of paint. The hobbit’s hair had long since gone white with age.

The paper dwarf marveled at his paper skin, for he had long since forgotten his true self. Suddenly he smiled, and found that he couldn't stop.

He felt affection for the hobbit overflowing him, and before his very eyes the wrinkled paper skin of his little companion smoothed.

Now the paper hobbit was smiling too. Soon they found themselves laughing for no other reason than just being.

"Paper hobbit!" The paper dwarf laughed. "Since you have given me this gift I wish to give you my …"

A knock on the huts front door interrupted them.

"Just a moment, my dearest paper hobbit." The paper dwarf ran to the door, and stared in question at the merchant who stood at the other side.

"Paper dwarf! You've removed your paint, others will not notice you now." The merchant reached for his pack.

"No, no, merchant.” The paper dwarf replied, “I have found happiness in myself, and do not have any more use for your ink or point."

"But I must ask: Why you are here? For it has been many years since I've seen you last."

"Oh, yes. I have come to collect my second favor." The merchant paused, looking slightly into the rickety hut. "I wish for you to return my paper hobbit to me."

"You … you cannot!" Cried the paper dwarf.

"But I can." Smiled the merchant. "Paper hobbit! We are leaving now!" He called out, and the hobbit appeared obediently at his side, but his smile was gone.

The merchant grabbed the hobbit's arm and pulled him from the hut. 

"Good. You've fixed it." He commented. "I've promised a paper hobbit to a bar keep near the Redhorn Pass, and I had begun to worry a defective trade would have my severed head sitting at the bottom of a barrel of mead. Now, goodbye, paper dwarf."

The paper dwarf could only stare blankly, when his hobbit was ripped away from him.

He watched as with every step the hobbit was forced to take away from the hut, more and more wrinkles appeared on his beautiful paper skin.

The merchant seemed to notice as well, and made a disgusted sound, quickly releasing it's arm. 

The merchant's face was twisted in anger when he turned back to the paper dwarf. 

"You've ruined him!" Yelled the merchant, shoving the hobbit back at the paper dwarf. "I use my last favor for you to take this broken paper hobbit. For he is no use to me like that!"

The paper hobbit ran back to the hut as the merchant stormed away. The wrinkled on his skin disappeared when he embraced the paper dwarf, and the dwarf held him as well.

"Will you stay?" Asked the dwarf.

"Yes, I will. For this is the only place I have found that I belong."

The paper dwarf held his paper hobbit tight and realized for the first time that right here, right now was exactly where he belonged as well, and they lived happily ever after.

-/:\\-

Outside the blizzard still raged, but the forge was warm.

"But 'eh hobbit is to old to 'ave a family 'ith the dwarf."

"Do you think the story is about romantic love, Kìli?" Asked Bilbo.

The dwarfling nodded. "Well, whatever love the story is about, be it a love for friends, or the love of good company, it's about accepting each other. The hobbit may be to old to start a romantic relationship with the dwarf, but all that matters is their love for each other."

Kìli paused for a bit. 

"'ill 'ou 'e the hobbit in my unca's story?" He asked. "'ou can 'e his family. 'E don'nt 'ave a lot 'nd I 'ink it makes 'im sad all 'he time."

"It doesn't really work that way, Kìli." The hobbit stuttered, a slight blush creeping over his face. "I can't just force myself on him. It's your Uncle's life and therefore has to be his decision if he accepts me as a part of it. We have to love each other, and I don't think that's …"

"'he paper dwarf din't like 'he hobbit much at firs', but 'ey love each other in 'he end." The dwarfling was looking at him with the single minded determination of a child.

"I guess that is true." Bilbo said, and he wondered what exactly was going through the dwarfling's head in the moment of prolonged silence that followed.


	16. A Hobbit Lass and A King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is out pretty late, so, oops.
> 
> Thanks to Anchanee, and everyone who's left comments and kudos!

Thorin sat in the sitting room, anxiously kneading his fingers. The snow had not been falling for long, but if Bilbo and Kíli didn't come back soon ...

All of a sudden there was a loud thump at the front door. The smial had been quiet until now, and the sudden sound caused Thorin to jump.Very Nearly falling out of his chair in the haste to grasp the weapon he did not have at his side any longer, he slowly approached the door.

The dwarf wasn't exactly sure if he should open up the smial. If it was Bilbo the hobbit would have just walked in , whoever was outside was most likely a stranger and inviting people into the home of his host without the hobbit’s knowledge didn’t seem like a very wise idea.

The resounding thump repeated itself and Thorin found himself reaching for the round green door.

Just outside, looking mildly irritated, stood a hobbit lass carrying a pale yellow umbrella.

The female gasped slightly when she saw him, and then glared pretentiously.

Her voice was not all that pleasant when she shared her first impression, "Well, you don't look as much of a barbaric oaf as I thought you would ." She gave him a quick once over. "Lobelia Sackville-Baggins."

Thorin scowled at her.

"Oh, don't take it that way. If anything that was a complement." Lobelia strolled passed him entering the smial uninvited. Placing her umbrella on a provided rack she headed straight for the sitting room.

Thorin was left trailing after her, opening and closing his mouth, franticly trying to think of some kind of protest of the unfamiliar hobbit waltzing right into Bilbo's home.

She chose the chair Thorin had previously occupied , crossing her legs, looking at him expectantly.

"Are you just going to stand in the doorway?" She asked , raising one eyebrow. "Go on, take a seat."

Thorin stood in the doorframe a few more seconds before silently slipping into the other chair.

"Let's get straight to business." Lobelia announced. "Firstly, who are you, and what do you want from my cousin?"

The dwarf paused for a moment. Unsure of what he should tell her. He opted for the truth, "My name is Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór."

"And my second question?"

"I'm not sure what you are implying..."

"Don't play stupid with me 'Thorin Oakenshield'," Lobelia fumed. "What intentions do you have towards Bilbo? If you even think that you will be getting your oversized paws on him I can assure you that I won't allow it!"

"I … I do not have any ill intentions towards Master Baggins! I would never even consider doing anything he doesn't want!"

Lobelia quirk an eyebrow, settling back in the chair. "And if he would want it?"

Thorin swallowed thickly. "I owe Bilbo Baggins a great debt. One that I will never be able to repay, I’m afraid. I would do anything he requests from me."

The strange hobbit huffed. "I've always heard dwarves were dirty, cruel, gold-hoarder. Now, unkempt seems to be accurate ..." Lobelia gestured toward his person. "But cruel ..."

Lobelia sighed. "You seem nice enough. Handsome too, if I wasn't newly wed, and you didn't appear so hopelessly in love with Bilbo, I would already be all over you." She winked, obviously enjoying Thorin getting all red and flustered.

"I'm not… !" , the dwarf protested.

"Oh, please, it's written all over your face. And denying it, isn't helping anybody, it's just serves to get you all flustered." She giggled, uncrossed her legs, and began swinging them merrily. "Bilbo told me that he trusts you, so I'm giving you a chance I wouldn't have given you under any other circumstances."

Thorin nodded solemnly. Truly, he wanted to smile. Bilbo told someone that he could be trusted. That meant that Bilbo too trusted him!

"So …," The hobbit lass drawled. "My tedious cousin insisted that you were not his lover, but I still want to ask your opinion on that. He's gets easily ruffled about these things and wouldn’t always tell the truth for proprieties sake."

Thorin cleared his throat, ducking his head. "We are not."

"Do you want to be?" Lobelia asked, leaning forward in her chair. "You can be honest with me. I won't go running to him spilling gossip."

The dwarf pushed himself back into the chair, hoping that by doing so he could escape the hobbit's inquisitive stare.

"I … well …" Thorin managed, his palms felt sweaty, and his mouth had suddenly gone dry. "Yes, I would." He found himself admitting, sounding far more confident then he really felt.

Lobelia smirked. "Is it because of the money? The dwarves that have been coming in as of late are rather poor. Stumbling into a rich, lonely hobbit could be the best thing that's happened to you. I admit, he's fairly decent on the eyes, but I'm sure you could do better."

Thorin took insult on Bilbo's behalf. He sat up, and fixed this Lobelia Sackville-Baggins with a steely glare before growling: "Bilbo Baggins is the most kindhearted being I have met since my home was taken from us. My people are used to being ignored. Other races usually turn a blind eye on us. He is the only one I've met who is different. He's compassionate, and kind, generous and gentle, he's everything I'm not. I will not have you besmirching his name."

"So, you're saying he's your knight in shining armor? That you love him?" Lobelia prompted, smirking that the dwarf had taken her bait. 

"And if I do?"

"Then … nothing." She beamed, resting comfortable against the plush cushions once again. "But I did get you talking, didn't it?"

Thorin found himself staring at the hobbit lass in silent horror. The female seemed very pleased with herself.

"Um … Uncle?"

Thorin turned to find Fìli standing in the doorway, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"This is your nephew? I met the other one while speaking to Bilbo when he made his way down to the marketplace." Lobelia asked.

"Fìli." Fìli greeted, bowing although he felt quite embarrassed being in his night clothes.

Lobelia sighed. "You're just like your uncle. Standing in doorways." She unshed him inside with a wave of her hand.

"It's … snowing." Fìli murmured. "Where's Kìli?"

"Once it got bad I'm sure Kìli and Bilbo went to a relatives’ smial. They're in safe hands, I can assure you." Lobelia rose from her seat. "Would anyone care for some tea, and maybe some cake? If my cousin has some cakes that is."

Thorin nodded, still slightly dazed from his outburst.

"Good. I promise I won't try to steal any of the silverware." She winked at the dwarfs, giggling to herself.

Both dwarves were left wondering why exactly a well-to-do hobbit would consider stealing silverware from her cousins smial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's common knowledge to never tell Lobelia Sackville-Baggins anything... Ever.


	17. Dwarves in the Kitchen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Anchanee! And also everyone who has left comments, kudos, and bookmarks!

The heavy falling snow, and howling wind, stopped for a short time as Hobbiton entered the eye of the blizzard. Bilbo took that few precious moments to rush back to Bag End pulling his little companion along, almost toppling Kíli in his haste. They arrived just in time to see a certain Missus Sackville-Baggins shutting Bilbo’s green round door behind her.

Lobelia smiled when she saw them, the genuineness of the gesture slightly unnerving for Bilbo, "I do advise you keep that one around, Bilbo!" She chirped, twirling her pale umbrella before continuing on her way swiftly to reach home before the snowstorm returned in full force.

Bilbo was left gaping after her. He shook his head in defeat, his golden curls bouncing. He sent silent prayer to the Green Lady, for Lobelia to not have stolen any pieces of his silverware. 

After that he tugged gently at Kíli's small hand, getting the dwarfling's attention back, urging him towards the smial. 

Bilbo all but ran into Thorin as the dwarf attempted to rush out of the smial at the same time. He was dressed in his yet to be cleaned fur coat, and his heavy boots tattered and weather worn, barely doing anything to protect his feet.

"Kíli. Bilbo." Thorin breathed, exhaling a white cloud of frosty air. He hauled Kìli up into his arms, hugging him in close. "I was worried when it began to snow and you didn’t come back."

When Bilbo smiled brightly, Thorin swallowed nervously. The cold gave Bilbo's cheeks a rosy tint, and his smile was warm despite the temperature.

"Unca, Unca!" Kìli pulled at Thorin's battered shirt, stressing the seams to get his attention. "'ill 'ou do me a fav'er?" The little dwarfling was looking as innocently as possible when Thorin turned to head back inside, Bilbo following close behind.

"A favor?" Thorin asked, the corner of his mouth tilting upward. "And what would you request, little master?"

"Can 'ou cook 'unch?" Kìli asked. His smile was sweet, but Bilbo swore he saw the slightest glint of mischievousness in his eyes.

Thorin turned sheepishly towards Bilbo, an apologetic look on his face.

"But Mister Boggins 'eeds to 'elp 'ou cause your food is nasty." Kíli emphasized his statement by sticking out his tongue in mock disgust.

Bilbo couldn't suppress the giggle and Thorin scowled at him momentarily before sighing in resignation.

"I can't deny that I'm not the best cook." The dwarf admitted , setting Kíli down before shrugging out of his coat.

"Then, would you like to join me in the kitchen, Thorin?" Bilbo asked warmly, sounding just a bit too hopeful for his own liking. He was used to cooking alone, but that didn't mean that he enjoyed it. His mother used to spend hours at the stove, and he would occasionally join her. She had taught him how to chop, and dice, to pare, whip, and whisk. How long you needed to cook a soufflé without it collapsing, and how to debone the fish that could be caught in the Brandywine river. The kitchen had been a lonely place without her.

Thorin froze halfway through removing his boots. "Yes, of course, Master Baggins." He found himself nodding hurriedly, before he could think better of it, cringing at the accidental formal use of his host's name.

Bilbo only took a second to look annoyed at the addressing before the smile returned. He clasped his hands together before pointing towards the kitchen. "We should be starting then. It's close to luncheon, we've skipped Elevenses altogether due to this storm."

Bilbo practically skipped to the pantry. A sudden giddiness refused to let the smile slip off his face. Thorin watched the hobbit pulling ingredients off the shelves .

"Yellow onions, leeks, garlic, oil, salt." Bilbo hummed to himself, grabbing each item as he called it, the pile of food weighed heavily on his arms. "Pepper, thyme, cumin, celery, carrots, tomato, cheese ..." Right about when Bilbo appeared to almost topple over with the added weight, he scurried off into the kitchen, placing everything on the counter.

Thorin fidgeted in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

"Most of these are out of season, but a few weeks back a merchant came traveling through, offering goods from up north." Bilbo started the measurements, setting aside what he wouldn’t need. A pot of water quick found itself atop the stove, a merry fire crackling underneath it.

"Can you chop the leaks? Only the white half please." He said, bustling about grabbing knives and bowls.

Thorin took the knife Bilbo had handed him, as he was herded towards a chopping block. He held the handle of the blade awkwardly, his hands to big for the short grip.

"What are you making?" The dwarf asked. He began to dice the leaks, chopping them into reasonably small pieces. The blade was dull and had some difficultly slicing through the tough core.

"We are making vegetable soup. Just a basic recipe." Bilbo replied mostly distracted by removing the skin from the onions before he began to cut them straight into the simmering water.

Thorin fumbled momentarily for something to say. He quickly found himself standing in silence as he saw to his assigned task. He didn't feel pressured to speak, but he wanted to. Wanted to hear Bilbo talk to him, and only him about whatever came to the hobbit’s mind.

But Thorin didn’t know how to start such a conversation, so he simply said nothing, and continued to chop the leaks. They refused to stay still long enough to be fully cut through, and preferred slipping out of his hands. Thorin released an irritated growl at the uncooperative vegetables.

"Do you need some help?" Bilbo asked, from right behind him startling him. He whirled around quickly to face the hobbit. Thorin realized that Bilbo had been watching him the entire time, and immediately felt a blush of embarrassment creeping onto his face.

Bilbo reached for the knife. Their fingers brushed when the dwarf allowed he blade to slip from his fingers.

Thorin inhaled sharply, the hobbit's skin against his own felt marvellous. It took more self control then he had not to pull Bilbo closer. The dwarf found himself reaching out towards his host before he could even think about it, grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers.

Bilbo stuttered in surprise, but did not fight against the dwarf's grip. Thorin stared at their fingers, looking at his own hand as if it had betrayed him.

"Um, Thorin?" Bilbo squeaked. Dragging the tips of his fingers over the dwarfs callused hand.

"It just ... this is a ... way dwarves express ... gratitude." Thorin lied, and instantly worried Bilbo that could hear his heart hammering in his chest when being so close.

The hobbit remained quiet for a moment, before nodding in acceptance. His lips parted, moving, saying something Thorin couldn’t understand because all he could hear was his heart trying to burst from his chest. Still, he agreed without a moment’s hesitation.

"Then let's get started!" Bilbo said, slipping his hand from Thorin's grip, heading back to the pantry.

The dwarf was left reeling after him. Stuttering out an apology. He had pushed too far, too fast and Bilbo had pulled back. He shouldn't have tried to kiss him! He should have been content to hold the hobbit’s hand for the briefest of moments, and not pressure for more. He was greedy, and his host had every right to deny him any past, present, or future attempts of courting him. 

"I thought you agreed to help me make a batch of cookies." Bilbo frowned, confused by Thorin's apologize.

The dwarf grabbed the bag of flour when Bilbo handed it to him. What cookies?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DoS was beautiful.


	18. Cookies and Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once more to Anchanee and also everyone who has been waiting patiently for this chapter.

Thorin wasn't exactly ecstatic when Bilbo told him about the cookies. It was embarrassing for the dwarf. While Bilbo moved through the kitchen like gold flowing though the channels of the great forges, Thorin mainly was in the way or stomped around with all the grace of a forest troll. He simply lacked even the slightest skill when it came to cooking and baking and was discomfited by the fact. Why, by Mahal, had he allowed Kíli to talk him into this? 

-/:\\-

Bilbo would not exactly call Thorin "graceful" regarding of how the dwarf staggered around in the kitchen, but he smiled an encouraged his enthusiasm. Or what he thought to be enthusiasm, which could have also been disgruntled acceptance. 

"It's not so bad, is it?" Bilbo asked, smiling at the dwarf as he cracked an egg into the mixing bowl. Thorin didn't respond in favor of brooding and glaring at the chocolate fudge. 

The fudge block sat mostly intact except for a few small chunks that he had manage to break away. It wasn’t breaking the fudge he was worried about. It was the knives. The dull blades hardly managed to cut through anything, and he feared if he pushed down much harder they might snap in half. 

"I'll take that as a no." Bilbo piped up to fill the silence. The dwarf merely glanced at him briefly, expression softening.

The silence lingered through out the preparations , and up until the moment t when the dough was safely shoved into the oven.

"Well, then. Um ... That's that." Bilbo grinned. "You wouldn't mind watching them, would you? They burn easily and I am a little tired from Kíli’s and my trip to town." He received a silent nod from the dwarf. "Thank you." was the hobbit’s reply before leaving the kitchen after smiling at Thorin one last time.

Bilbo stumbled into the sitting room, nearly groaning blissfully because it was so much warmer than then the kitchen with the hearth set ablaze, warming the room for some time. 

Bilbo sank into his father's arm chair. The heat of the fire licked at his skin, and he let his eyes slip closed. The soup wouldn't be done for a while and the cookie dough sat in the oven with a dwarf looking after them. Thorin would let him know when they were done, so the hobbit allowed himself to relax. He was sure he had more then a little bit of flour in his hair and that he needed a change of clothes, but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

Kìli had fallen asleep on the floor, his head pillowed on Fìli's thigh, a quilt draped across his small body. The dwarfling stirred momentarily at a crack of the fire, his eyes fluttering open. He looked across the sitting room with sleep hazed eyes to where Bilbo sat before struggling onto his feet. He dragged the quilt with him up to Bilbo's armchair, and managed to drag himself up nesting into the crook between Bilbo and the chairs' arm. Tiny hands clutched Bilbo’s vest when the dwarfling fell asleep again.

Fìli made a distressed noise. "I'm sorry, Mister Baggins." The blonde said, quickly getting to his feet. "He usually just doesn't grab people."

"Oh, well, yes. It's quite alright. I don't mind in the least." Bilbo smiled lightly, and let his eyes slip closed again. "And you can call me Bilbo. Just Bilbo."

-/:\\-

The first thing Bilbo realized upon being rudely woken were hurried footsteps stomping towards the kitchen. Second was the smell of smoke that filled the smial. And finally the loud foreign curse, followed by the clank of metal hitting the floor.

The hobbit jumped to his feet, almost knocking Kìli to the floor. He only spared a moment to apologize to the dwarfling, before he sprinting towards the kitchen.

"Thorin!" Bilbo yelled, staggering to a halt when he spotted the dwarf on his knees picking charred discs up from the floor. The dwarf flinched back. "Are you alright?" Thorin refused to meet his eyes as he quickened the pace he picked up the burned remains of what Bilbo assumed were the cookies. 

The dwarf tensed. "I am sorry, Master Baggins. I neglected my duties for a moment to relive myself and upon my return I found them burned."

Bilbo glanced down to the floor were Thorin held a handful to burning cookies. "Put those down!" When the dwarf dropped them almost instantly the hobbit rushed over to him. "Are you trying to hurt yourself even farther? Did you grab the pan?" When Thorin nodded solemnly Bilbo took his hand and inspected it.

The burn didn't look to bad. The skin was red but not blistered yet. It must have hurt horribly but it's was nothing to serious.

"You'll be fine." Bilbo said, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Come on."

The hobbit began to lead Thorin gently to the bathroom where he kept his salves stored. Kìli and Fìli trailing closely behind them, clearly worried about what had happened. Thorin didn't make to much of a fuss as Bilbo sat him down and rummaged through the cabinets.

"Bilbo ..." Thorin spoke tentatively. "I don't think much of a fuss is necessary for something so sm-"

Bilbo smiled as he pulled a jar of green paste from its shelf along with a roll of bandages. He easily waved off the dwarves protests. "It's not nothing. I don't want you to be hurt."

Thorin looked a little dazed as the hobbit applied an odd Tookish mixture of witch hazel and elder flowers, before wrapping the burn in clean white bandage. 

Bilbo patted the dwarf's fingers lightly when he was done. 

"Are 'ou gonna kiss it betta too?" Kìli asked from his position by the doorframe. "Unca does that 'or us when 'e get hurt."

"I ... um, don't really think that would help in this case." Bilbo stammered, glancing at Thorin. The dwarf had manage to pull a mask of perfect indifference at his nephew's suggestion. The only acknowledgment he gave that he even heard his nephew was a warning look.

"I wanna make Unca feel betta, but I an't kiss it betta cause I'm not big yet." Kìli pouted, looking to the floor sadly then back up at Bilbo with tears in his eyes. 

Bilbo turned back towards Thorin, and looked at him apologetically before taking the dwarf's hand, bringing the palm to his lips.

The brush of lips was a little farther down his palm then the bandages sat, so that the hobbit would not disturb the actual burn. Bilbo's eyes flickered up locking with Thorin’s through the fringe of golden curls while his head was still bowed. Thorin could feel his face growing red.

Kìli hugged his leg. "Do 'ou feel betta now?"

Thorin looked down at his nephew. "It doesn't even hurt anymore."

Bilbo felt his heart flutter when Thorin smiled down at the dwarfling. It was a blatant lie, but Kìli seemed to believe it well enough.

"I should, um, go clean up now." Bilbo squeaked, a little unsure of why he was suddenly so flustered. When Thorin opened his mouth to say something, the hobbit cut him off gently. "Just rest your hand. It's fine." 

Bilbo smiled tenderly before rushing out of the room, leaving behind a very confused set of dwarves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is one that a few of you have been dreading/waiting for and I'm pretty glad at how it's turned out. Not much longer now!


	19. Two Types of Wolves in the Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Anachanee!
> 
> Warning: Chapter contains Rape/Non-Con

The snow lasted all thought the night and well into the next morning. Thorin found himself staggering into the kitchen, half dressed and bedraggled, for an early second breakfast. Bilbo on the other hand was up and about. Breakfast sat steaming on the table still fresh, and a platter of sandwiches on the counter.

"Good morning, Thorin." The hobbit smiled albeit a little awkward, his eyes trailing down to his unbuttoned tunic. "I'm actually glad your up. I'm heading a little ways off the road to pick up a few things from the neighboring town."

Thorin tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, clearly confused by that information. "Bree is eight days travel, maybe more in the snow."

"No, no." Bilbo said, eyes snapping back up to meet his, a hint of red coloring his cheeks. "There is a smaller town an hour or so north. I'm heading there to pick up some … items."

"Items?" Thorin raised an eyebrow in question, but Bilbo only nodded quickly and grinned at him.

"It's a surprise." The hobbit said in a hushed tone, looking warily towards the doorway as if expecting Fíli and Kíli to be hiding there.

It was only then that Thorin noticed how warmly his host was dressed. A thick wool coat atop his usual clothing, and a cloak upon that. Still, the hobbit wore no shoes. Wouldn’t he freeze when walking barefoot though the snow?

"May I suggest waiting until the roads are clear and the snow has melted?" Thorin suggested worriedly.

Bilbo huffed. "One should never put off today what one should have done yesterday." He began walking towards the door and Thorin followed him.

"Then I will accompany you." He insisted, stopping Bilbo at the door as he made sure his cloak was securely fastened.

"And leave the boys alone? No, you'll be staying here. But thank you for the offer." The hobbit said, pulling open the round door and stepping out.

Thorin would have found the idea of the hobbit trudging around in nearly a foot of new fallen snow humorous had he not been so worried. The snow came up just bellow his knees, and Bilbo trekked slowly down the path. Sinking deeply into the snow with each footstep.

"I'll be back before you know it!" Bilbo assured him as Thorin watched him slowly but determinedly march through the front gate.

-/:\\-

"Bilbo Baggins, this is surely the most idiotic thing you've done in your life." He grumbled to himself, or at least he hoped that he was by himself. Not long after leaving Hobbiton and entering wilder parts of the Shire Bilbo had lost the path, but continued to lumber on despite of it. His hopes of finding the trail again were dimming with every step taken. He should turn back now. Go back home, and sit next to the fire instead of having his nose run rivers in the cold. But there was no "back". Everything was back, and so was it forward. He was so turned around he could not head back if he tried. So, he kept moving forewarned. At least as forward as he could get, and hoped.

The sun was high in the sky, when Bilbo paused in a clearing of trees. Looking up at the blinding brightness he tried to remember the lessons in navigation his mother had taught his as a hobbitling. He groaned in frustration when he couldn't remember if the lessons were for navigating by the moon, or possibly the stars, instead of the sun.

All Bilbo wanted to do was sit down. His legs burned with the constant strain of pushing through snow, but it was then that he realized that he was being followed.

He kept still, head cocked towards the sun, playing oblivious for his pursuers, but listened. The faint crunch of snow bordering the tree line. The footsteps were to quiet to be man or dwarves, but to loud to be a hobbit's if they truly did not want to be heard. He ran.

Howls, and low rumbling, erupted from the trees as wolves began their chase.

Bilbo couldn't tell if his heart was beating to fast or if it had just stopped altogether, but he ran as fast as he could with the burning in his legs, and the wolves on his tail. They were faster though, stronger and hungry. The yips and snarls came from his sides as well as from behind, Bilbo's heart sank farther. The rest of the pack was coming. He egged himself on faster, nearly tripping on hidden tree roots and rocks, but refused to lose his balance. The growls came closer with every step he took, and his hope died when a solid white wolf entered his path. Teeth bared, and face twisted. He cut right, the wolves growled, he turned left, the younger of the pack yipped, and jumped happily. Bilbo could hear the deep rumble coming from his back, and didn't bother turning around.

"Get out of here!" He yelled, and shrieked when a sharp pain closed around his arm. The smallest wolf of the pack howled noisily in anticipation, bounding around Bilbo. A set of jaws clamped onto his side, jagged teeth bore into his skin. He screamed again, bringing his fist down onto one of the wolves head. It shook his arm violently in response, and now even the older wolves yipped in glee.

The light began to dim and things became quieter until not a sound could be heard. Bilbo's vision went black.

-/:\\-

Thorin glanced out the window, it was nearly mid-day, and Bilbo still had yet to return. The hobbit had left hours ago, and although he seemed quite sure he would be back sooner rather than later Thorin had began to worry.

"I'm going to look for him." He announced, tugging on his coat, and making for the door.

Fìli ran after him. "Do you even know where he is? You should wait for him to come back."

"He said north, that's all I need to know." Thorin was trudging through the snow before anyone could stop him.

-/:\\-

Bilbo awoke to someone making soothing noises, like his mother used to do when he would suffer from night terrors.

"Shhh, little one, you are in no danger here."

Bilbo forced his eyes to open and tried to sit up. A heavy pain shot through his side. Wincing he fell back onto something soft that had been placed under his head.

He locked eyes with a broad shouldered man with a short mess of ginger locks, and a thick stubble.

"W-where am I?" He asked, struggling to get up once again. A heavy hand on his chest pushed him back down.

"You are at a camp of Men, halfling. You are safe here." The Man handed him a bowl of stew. "Best you eat, you've been injured and need your strength to heal."

Bilbo tried smile at him, but was sure it came off as a pained grimace. He found himself wanting to trust this man, against his common sense. He had been taught at a young age by his father not to so easily trust strangers, or invite them into the house, but this man seemed sincere and caring. The warm bowl felt nice in his hands and for a second he forgot about the pain. The smile was returned in something of a smirk.

The steel spoon was oversized, much like the rest of the things that belonged to Men, but he scooped a spoonful into his mouth. He was thankful his left arm had been injured, and not the one he uses most. "It’s good, thank you." Bilbo said, spooning more of the meal into his mouth.

"Not a problem." The man rose from the seat beside the bed. Running a hand over his stubbled chin he turned. "They've given you salve for your wounds. It'll numb the pain for a few hours, so you will hardly feeling anything now. Eat, then rest."

"You're leaving?" Bilbo asked, a little hurt that the man was abandoning him so soon. He did not want to be alone when his body hurt so much, and something about the man was soothing. He made Bilbo much calmer then he thought he would be, when waking up in someone's tent after being attacked by wolves, and somehow surviving.

"Yes." Came the gruff reply as heavy boots stomped to the exit of the small tent.

"Why were you sitting by my bed? Is there a reason I needed to be watched over?"

"We needed to make sure you didn't sneak away."

"I hardly think I'm in good enough shape for something like that." Bilbo joked, attempting to ignore the throbbing pain in his body.

The man only smiled before leaving the tent.

-/:\\-

Bilbo was startled awake when his hands were suddenly jerked upwards. The wounds on both his arm and side jostled flared up painfully. He screamed. The man from earlier had straddled his hips and made quick work of tying his wrists together.

"Shut up, Goddamn it." The man snapped, leveling Bilbo with a harsh glare. "If you make another sound I'll cut out your tongue."

Bilbo whimpered quietly, tears of pain welling in his eyes.

"Atta, boy." The man cooed, rubbing his hands soothingly down Bilbo's uninjured side. "If you just do what I say it won’t hurt too much. And you would want to repay my kindness after all, wouldn’t you? Without me you would be bleeding to death, half eaten, out there in the woods." The man's hardening length prodded against Bilbo’s stomach when he leaned down to press a kiss to the hobbit's chin.

"Get away from me!" Bilbo yelled, and shrieked when the man dug his fingers into the bite wound on his side.

"That's no way to treat the man who's going to make you feel oh so good." The man tugged his trousers down to expose his shaft. "And I do suggest you turn around before I stop going easy on you." He paused to think for a moment. "Call me Gorn. I want to hear you moan my name."

"Don't touch me!" Bilbo cried softly, and the man gave his a reprimanding glare before pressing his palm to the gash once again.

"Hands and knees." Gorn growled, his easy disposition evaporating in the face of Bilbo's defiance. When Bilbo gritted his teeth, the man snapped. Shouting curses he forced Bilbo onto his stomach.

"No! Please stop, I've never-" Bilbo risked begging, but stopped instantly when a knife was placed at his throat.

"A virgin, are you? That'll make it all the better." The knife slid lightly across his neck, opening a shallow cut. "I'm going to fuck you up the ass, and your not going to say a goddamn word, are we clear?"

Bilbo didn't get the chance to respond before his trousers were ruffly yanked down, along with his small cloths, the knife still firm at his throat. Silent tears streamed down Bilbo's face, and he couldn't help but wish he would have died under the claws and teeth of the wolves.

-/:\\-

Thorin managed to follow Bilbo’s trail until dark, but when the sun went down it was concealed by snow and darkness. A flicker of a camp fire in the distance caught his attention. He stumbled off the path and into rugged terrain to find a the camp. When he saw the fire clearly, he found men sitting around it, laughing, and joking. The Dwarf was just about to continue his search when something one of the men said had him freezing in the darkness.

"Aye, a pretty little halflin' at that, bit injured but he'll make a good nights lay." He laughed, before taking another spoonful from the bowl he had sitting in his lap.

"Oy, I didn' get to see 'em." One of the younger red headed men shouted. "Wha's 'e look like, and when's me turn?"

"Coppery hair, short, big feet." Another man said, soup running down his beard. "Should be herein' him start screamin' anytime now, lads got no idea what he's in for, and Gorn's never been a gentle lover. Almost feel bad for 'em."

"Do ya now?" The red head asked.

"Well, I will, up til it's my turn."

That started a round of laughter among the men.

Thorin's face darkened. They were talking about Bilbo. His Bilbo. The little hobbit who was just so kind, and honest and gentle. His little hobbit that had done the most brainless thing, by running off into snow he could barely walk in. The perfect little creature that wouldn't hurt a soul.

He was standing before the men before he even realized what he was doing, growling out an enraged, "Where is he."

"Ey, who are ya?" A bald man, with a jagged scar running down most of his face gave him a quick once over. "Not as good-lookin' as the little 'un we got, but ya could be worth quite a bit."

Thorin all but snarled when he realized what these disgusting men were. Slave traders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request from Syxx. I hope you stuck around long enough for this part!


	20. A Cold Road Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patients! The next chapter will defiantly not take this long now that finals are over.
> 
> There is a bit of violence in this chapter.

"Oh, looka here, lads! We've gotta fighter dun't we?" One of the men sneered as he stood, hand coming to rest on the hilt of a rusted axe at his side. "Be a good pup and just come ere."

"Oy! I think e's cute!" Exclaimed the red-head with a pout. "Dun chop im up to much!"

"Ya disgust me sometimes, Adder." Snarled the guy with the axe as he continued to step forward.

Thorin inhaled slowly. "Tell me where the hobbit is!"

"I'd suggest you stop worryin' bout yer lover 'n start worryin' bout yerself."

"Do not doubt for one second that I would not kill all of you to get to him. Where. Is. He?"

The red-head chuckled into his muddy hand.

"Oy!" A man with a third hulking man yelled towards the tent. "Master Gorn! If ya haven't gotten to into it yet, there's a midget lookin' for yer pet, an’ a fight to."

The wet smack of an overly exaggerated kiss was the only sound before a man emerged, tucking himself into his pants.

Thorin barely managed to restrain himself from attacking the man the instant he saw him. He took a step forward. "Give him to me!"

The man frowned. "I heard there'd be a fight, not a negotiation. Did I just stop my fun time for this?" He turned to the red-head. "Adder, be a good lad and fetch my mace."

He turned back to the dwarf with cold eyes. "I'll tell you what. Winner gets the halfling. Loser gets his head lobbed off. If you win I'll even throw in the kid. He's a good lay, eager to please and willing. I planned to sell him off in the next town." He smiled broadly, and Thorin could see the glint of madness in his eye. "He's got the looks of his ol' man. A chip off the old block."

Thorin nodded. He couldn't care less about the kid, but he was going to get Bilbo back or die trying.

-/:\\-

"Hurry up, now. Arm yourself!" The man licked his lips as his men came to surround them. "Don't tell me your unarmed. That wouldn't be any fun."

Thorin pulled a poorly made dagger out of his boot, and got into a defensive position.

The man glared. "It's better then nothing I suppose, but you won't last long."

They began to circle each other.

A harsh thwack of the mace handle colliding with the back of his knee almost sent Thorin to the floor.

"C'mon." The man jeered as he practically skipped circles around the dwarf.

The men, who had chattered and cheered for their master, became silent, and the air rang with tension as dagger met mace sending a flurry of sparks into the air.

Thorin was quick to lash out at the man’s exposed torso, narrowly avoiding the mace as it swung towards his chest. The man struck again, and the dwarf managed to grab his forearm. The mace plummeted to the floor, and landed on Thorin's foot as a meaty fist collided with the side on his head. He tumbled backwards and landed on his back, his vision going black for a heartbeat.

"That was quick." The man said closing in on him. The mace dragging behind him. "For some reason I expected more from you, but don't worry, your preciously little halfling is in good hands."

Thorin grabbed a handful of dirt and waited until the man was practically leaning over him with a wicked grin before throwing piles of leaves and earth into the man’s face, blinding him momentarily.

The man groaned in pain. As he hurriedly rubbed the dirt from his eyes, Thorin dove for the mace. He struggled to his feet, and swung the weapon as hard as he could towards his opponent’s head.

The man fell to the floor with a dull thud and remained there motionless. His men stared at the unmoving figure before slowly backing away, looking anxiously at the dwarf.

"We don't want any trouble, mister." The scar faced man raised his arms in surrender.

"Leave!" Thorin commanded, and watched the remaining men scurrying away like rats until he could no longer hear the crunching of snow under boots

Thorin didn't check to see if the man was still breathing before he hobbled over to the tent. Warmth trickled down from the gash in his forehead. He threw open the flaps, and squinted in the dull light of the lantern.

"Bilbo? Mahal, Bilbo, please answer me." He stumbled inside, letting the coarse cloth fall back into place behind him. He was seized by panic when the only sound was his harsh breathing dulled by the crackle of the camp fire.

"Thorin?" Bilbo asked quietly. "But … but why … how are you...?"

Thorin grabbed the lantern and followed to sound of his hobbit's voice.

"Don't worry, Bilbo. Everything is okay now." The dwarf cooed, as he approached the bed. Bilbo sat stock still, his trousers unbuttoned, and the shallow cut on his neck bleeding sluggishly. Thorin's eyes straying to the bandages on his arm. "Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine." The hobbit croaked even as his eyes began to water. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. You got hurt because of me, and you should have just abandoned me."

Bilbo tensed when Thorin suddenly wrapped his arm around him in a rough hug. "I would never have left you."

It was a long moment before Bilbo brought his arms up to hug the dwarf back, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Can we go home now?" The hobbit mumbled into Thorin’s coat.

Thorin gently tapped his forehead with his own. "Can you walk ? I can carry you if you'd like."

-/:\\-

His coat hung loosely on Bilbo shoulders and dragged along the ground. Thorin didn't like how much he enjoyed holding Bilbo's hand as he lead them along the same path he had taken to the camp. Bilbo had insisted in a shaky voice that he cooled the gash on his forehead with snow, so his fingers stung but he didn't want to upset the hobbit any farther and held the snowball in his other hand, washing away the blood on his forehead by melting it there.

"I'm sorry." Bilbo said again, exhaustion evident in his tone.

"No, it may fault. I let you leave I ... I should have gone after you, or done _something_ to keep you home." He paused for a moment, listening to Bilbo's harsh breathing. "How are your wounds? Would you like to rest?"

"Yes, thank you. They are fine. I just feel a little winded that’s all." Bilbo put his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. Thorin knew better then to ask about what happened at the camp, so he remained silent.

It was hard to tell how far they had walked by the light of the moon when Bilbo collapsed for the first time.

"I'm … I'm alright." He insisted, as he clabbered back onto his feet before Thorin could got the chance to help him. He hissed and brought a hand to his side. "Let's just keep going."

A small group of lights flickered in the distance, and Thorin watched a small smile spread across Bilbo's face. He grinned as well. Bilbo only staggered forward another few steps before he tumbled to the ground.

"Bilbo!" He quickly kneeled down, and rolled the hobbit onto his back. The snow where he had fallen appeared black in the dim light, and Thorin cursed. He brushed his fingers along the front of his coat, and felt a wet warmth seep onto his fingers.

He ran back to the smial with a hobbit cradled in his arms.

"Fìli! Open the door!" He yelled, hoping that his nephew was still awake, an edge of panic to his voice as he kicked at the rounded door. "Bilbo’s hurt!"

His commotion attracted a very disgruntled hobbit to march impatiently out of the neighbouring hobbit hole, instantly scolding the dwarf, "Do you have any idea what time it is? I won't have you causing a ruckus this late a night ... What's wrong?"

"B-Bilbo is hurt."

The circle door swung open, and Fìli stood on the other side. "Uncle? Mahal! Is he - what should we do?"

"Get him to his bed room, and fetch some bandages. We have to stop the bleeding." The unfamiliar hobbit ordered as he rushed up the path while tightening the belt of his dressing gown. "Don't just stand there. Move!"


	21. Absent Hobbits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Anchanee!

The unfamiliar hobbit sipped at a cup of tea in Bilbo's armchair, and Thorin stood in the doorway unsure of how to proceed. He had taken one hesitant step into the room before the hobbit spoke up. "I'll take it you're not the one to almost have killed him?" The hobbit asked, disturbingly calmly.

Thorin shook his head even though the other could not see, and confirmed after a moment. "He went north, alone, and was taken by traders."

The hobbits expression hardened, "We don't usually have a problem with the slavers in these parts of the Shire. They don’t pass into our borders."

The dwarf nodded although he knew little of what the hobbit meant to say. Nervously he glanced down the hall. "Is he going to be alright? Was he? "

“Master Baggins will be fine. A little worse for wear, but he'll pull through." The hobbit's expression softened, and he seemed to sink back farther into the armchair. "It's a little late for introductions, but we should do them properly none the less. Hamfast Gamgee, the gardener, pleased to meet you, if you’re the one that Lobelia's been chatting about all the time."

Thorin frowned. "Lobelia?" 

"You've made quite the impression on Missus Sackville-Baggins. She'll talk about her meeting you to anyone with half an ear!"

-/:\\-

Thorin stood unsteadily at the front door, hands tightening around a familiar woven basket in his hands. On the second day of Bilbo unconsciousness, Hamfast had given him a small purse and instructions to stock up on what was needed while the snow was light. 

"You needn't repay me. Why, if it wasn't for you our Mister Baggins would be in even more trouble!" Came the insistent response when Thorin tried to deny the money. 

After taking a deep breath the dwarf step out of the smial. The snow crunch loudly under his boots as he trudged along the path. He could feel the eyes of Bilbo's neighbors on him as he walked, but trained his eyes steadily to the floor to avoid their judgmental stares.

"Ma'ma, Ma'ma!" A fauntling cried out, hurriedly tugging at the hem of his mother's dress. "Wha's that?"

A lady-hobbit with dark brown curls looked up from where she. Her gaze met Thorin's before she quickly made a hushing motion towards her child. "It's not a 'that', dear, it's a he, a dwarf. Which is odd, unless..." She made a sound of understanding, and nodded solemnly more to herself than the child, before shooing the tiny mess of dark hair back inside.

Thorin though nothing of the encounter. He and his people were slandered often and rarely with kind words, so it came to him as no surprised that it would happen here as well.

Two young lasses strolled along the path together, and the dwarf could see their fingers pointing well before their words reached him. 

"Is that -?"

"I think it is!"

"Have you heard the rumor that -"

"Oh my! How brazen of him!"

"-children? How sweet! But -”

One of the hobbits, who was holding the closed parcel shushed her friend loudly as he passed them. Thorin tipped his head in polite greeting which sent both hobbits into a fit of giggles.  

The dwarf continued his hurried march to the market, choosing to ignore the response, when a loud voice called out to him from a side path. 

"Thorin!" 

The dwarf turned his head to see Lobelia ushering him over with her free hand as the other was warped around a young gentlehobbit. 

Lobelia turned to her partner. "See, Otho? This is the dwarf that has fallen head over heels for our little Bilbo."

Thorin tried to sputter out a defense before the hobbit extended his free hand. "Otho Sackville-Baggins, Lobelia's husband." Otho’s grip was soft, and withdrew his hand quickly to shove it into his trouser pocket.   
"Thorin Oakenshield, pleased to meet you."

Lobelia huffed. "No need to be so formal with him! If things go the way I think they will we will all be family soon enough." She winked at her husband in an affectionate manner, as he smiled warmly at her, and turned back towards the dwarf. "What brings you into town all by yourself?"

Thorin drew his gaze back from the empty basket in his hand. "Bilbo is injured, and has been unconscious for a few days. Until he wakes I am to stock up on provisions.” They both nodded and did not push for details. 

"Then you shall accompany us since we are heading there as well." Lobelia smiled mischievously. "It also gives me time to discover how the relationship is turning out. I do love a good love story."

Lobelia did not allow Thorin to fall into place behind them, instead dragging him to her immediate right. 

"And you've not even told him?" She gawked. "I swear all men are the same regardless of race. Can't even do the simplest things."

Otho, who had remained silent until this point, choose to interrupt. "It's not as easy as you make it sound, love! I once read a book on dwarves that belong to my great-great-great grandmother that said dwarvish love is excruciatingly rare. It said that if the love is not, or cannot, be returned then the dwarf becomes a shell of what they once were. I would had my heart shattered into a million little pieces had you not accepted to dance with me last spring banquette, but I would not have died! The book said that for dwarves that is a very real concern."

They sprung into a heated argument over who had asked whom for a dance at the banquette, and Thorin listened them bicker. He wondered if he would ever be able to squabble with Bilbo over something trivial as an excuse to hold him tighter in the cold.

The dwarf was brought out of his musing when the hobbit lass called out to a couple who were shoveling the snow from their walkway.

"Good morning, Esmeralda, Falco."

"Ah! Lobelia!" Chimed to lass. "It's good to see you out and about this morning. Did you come to help?" They shared a quite laugh before she noticed Thorin. "And who is this gentleman?" She asked lightly, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

"Thorin Oakenshield, pleased to meet you."

Otho began to make a comment on Thorin's lack of introductory lines before Lobelia silenced him with a quick jab to the ribs. 

"He's the dwarf I told you about. The one living with Bilbo and … you know?" Wiggling her eyebrows conspiratorial.

Thorin's eyes went wide as he gaped at her, her words a clear implication of what she had shared with the other hobbits. "Y-you said that you would not tell anyone!" The dwarf stammered, feeling betrayed. 

Lobelia clicked her tongue. "No, I said I wouldn't go around spilling gossip! I merely shared my thoughts with a friend ... who then went spilling. I've done everything just like I promised."

Thorin made a strangled sound before the lass winked, "And if it gets back to Bilbo then that's one less confession you're going to have to make." 

-/:\\- 

Bilbo's head throbbed violently when he finally woke. A black haze crowded his vision, and he felt weak as a kitten, he could not even bring himself to sit upright. He groaned loudly as the pain spread throughout his body, and a sudden thirst seized him.

Hinges squeaked quietly as a door opened, before a low voice asked, "Bilbo? Are you awake?" 

He turned his head slowly, wincing in pain. "Fìli? What are ... What are you doing here?" He croaked, his voice dry and hoarse.

"I'll get you some water." Fìli promised, ignoring the question in favor of slipping through the door again. Bilbo closed his eyes as footsteps padded down the hall then reappeared. Holding a glass in his hand, the little dwarf revealed,   
"Uncle went out looking for you when you didn't come back. Here, do you need help sitting up?"

After he struggled into a sitting position Bilbo shakily gulped down the cool liquid. The blond dwarf hovered over him the entire time in case the glass slipped from the hobbit’s quivering hands.

"You've been asleep for a while." Fìli reported. "About three days. How are you feeling?"

"I've had worse." The hobbit sighed as he leaned back down, black spots appearing around the room as nausea almost overtook him.

Fìli gave him an unamused, but slightly fond, look. "Maybe you should sleep more. I'll be back later."

"Don't try to get up." He added as a forethought, as he closed the door. "Sleep well, Mister Bilbo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be out a lot sooner, I promise.


	22. Hopeless Hobbits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Badskippy
> 
> As always this could not happen without Anchanee!

Bilbo awoke as the bed dipped with added weight, causing him to shift slightly towards the other person. The pounding in his head was more evident then when he had last regained consciousness, but he forced his eyes open. The dim shine of a slowly rising sun the only source of light in the room.

"Thorin?" The hobbit asked in a harsh whisper, recognizing his guest immediately. 

The dwarf's head jerked towards him, and he quickly rose from the edge of the mattress. "I was ... I was just about to leave." His voice was to loud, causing Bilbo's head to give a painful throb. Still the hobbit managed to conjure a small smile. 

"Stay." He coughed, a movement that caused immediate pain. "Please?"

Thorin let himself slip back onto the soft mattress, the pair sat in silence for a long moment. 

"How are you feeling?" The dwarf asked nervously ringing his calloused hands together. 

"Fantastic." Bilbo mumbled.

The pair sat in silence. The dwarf picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, and Bilbo fought off the waves of fatigue that that threatened to pull him under again. 

Bilbo gave into the temptation of closing his eyes and soon felt the dip in the bed evening out.

"I should leave now." The dwarf said, adjusting his heavy coat.

"Where are you going?" The hobbit mumbled, already half asleep.

Thorin hesitated before leaning down to press a quick kiss to Bilbo's forehead, his large hand brushing back the curls that tickled the hobbit’s eyes. "Rest." He whispered before slipping from the room into the hall. The bedroom door clicked shut silently.

-/:\\-

The next few days were an agonizingly slow drag of painful movements, and routine bandage changes. Bilbo would wake with Thorin sitting on his bed, but would not see him again until late at night when Fìli and Kìli would already be sleeping. The dwarf never tried to kiss him again which left Bilbo hoping desperately for any contact when Thorin rose to leave. The lack of warm lips on his skin was something he had never expected to miss. If anything it should have made the quite morning company awkward, but it still remained comforting and needed. 

During the day, with only Fìli and Kìli to keep him company, Bilbo learned many things about the dwarflings. They told him about their journey from the mountains into the Shire, and about Fìli's hatred of heights. They shared how Kìli preferred juice over almost any other drink, and how he once wandered off from a camp into the woods and Thorin had been the one to find him behind a mulberry bush. Fìli shared with Bilbo his desire to learn every single language known, but admitted that he could hardly make out the simplest words from the books in the study, and Kìli that he was determined to grow up to be just like his uncle.

So with the two of them as company, Bilbo’s convalescence was much easier than the hobbit had anticipated. Much bed rest usually made him restless, and he began insisting on getting up and move around the house as usual, ignoring the pain his movements caused him. His wounds were a fleshy pink beneath the bandages, and the bruises had faded almost entirely. 

Fìli had taken his brother outside to play in the backyard and had promised not to go farther. The hobbit reveled in the silence it brought. He knew the stillness would begin to bother him in a short while, but decided to enjoy the moment while it lasted.

A sudden knock startled Bilbo the moment he had managed to comfortably settle himself into his armchair. He groaned loudly.

"I'm not home!" He called to his visitor. The house was silent and he hoped that his guest had taken their leave when the thumping repeated itself. Bilbo groaned once again for good measure, before struggling onto his feet and hobbling over to the door. All the while attempting to straighten his vest and sort his hair into something vaguely presentable. The door seemed heavier then usual, but this thought fled his mind as he took in the figure before him.

"Lobelia." He greeted, quickly growing tried from the short walk to the door.

"Bilbo Baggins!" Lobelia grinned deviously. "I heard from a little dwarvish bird that you are recovering well." She pushed her way passed him and let Bilbo follower her into the sitting room. "Sit, sit, Baggins. You're looking awfully pale. It doesn't suit you."

She helped him back into his armchair before taking up the one adjacent to it.

A pause filled the room before Lobelia spoke. "You look well."

Bilbo raised a single eyebrow. "Not a moment ago I apparently looked-"

"Do you know who also looks well?" The lass cut him off. "That dwarf ... What was his name? Thorin Oakenshield? He does have a handsome face, don't you agree? Strong one, too."

"I suppose so." Bilbo mumbled, his face flushing a light pink at the memory of the gentle kiss Thorin had given him a few mornings ago.  
"Tell me of his personality. What do you think?" Lobelia inquired, looking at Bilbo demandingly.

Bilbo stilled momentarily, choosing his words wisely as to not have anything slip his tongue. "He is ... kind. He treated me with respect before he even knew my name, and he loves his nephews dearly. He seems quite stubborn, but tries to do what he is told, even if the order is a mere suggestion. He ... He is also proud, determined to pay off his debts weather they are real or imaginary." He took a breath. "If not for him I don't know where I would be now. Dead mostly likely. I owe him more than I can ever repay."

Lobelia gazes at him for a long time before smiling honestly, “My dear Bilbo, if I didn’t know better I would say you were smitten." 

He could feel his face flush further. "No! No, no, no. I am not, what makes you even think such a thing?" 

"Lobelia!" Said the lass imitating Bilbo’s voice with a love struck tone. "He is the most gorgeous creature in all of Middle-Earth! So strong and handsome." Lobelia snickered at Bilbo's whining protest. "Not to worry, dear cousin-in-law, he would be daft to reject you."

Bilbo was in the process of pulling his vest over his face to save him from further embarrassment when Lobelia's tone softened unexpectedly. "Do you like him? Truly?" 

He gave a half shrug, the pain is his arm reappearing due to the strain he was putting on it. "I … I don't know."

She giggled. "Well, you should make up your mind soon. Seeing as how half the Shire already thinks he is courting you."

Bilbo shoved the vest back onto his shoulders. "W-what?" He squeaked. The ache in his body suddenly forgotten.

"Did you not know that you are all that's being gossiped about? Your dwarf has caused quite some turbulence." Her smirk softened into a small smile. "A few are going as far as calling it scandalous for a proper Baggins such as yourself to host him and his nephews. But ... I think that most are glad for you. You deserve someone special after all."

Bilbo looked down towards the floor, before saying in a small voice. "No, I don't."

Lobelia huffed, becoming seemingly enraged by his statement. "I have never meet someone in all my life as stubborn, or as worthy of love as you, Baggins! And I swear that you will one day be happily married, even if I have to crawl to Gondor myself to find someone that completes you! Now, if you'll excuse me."

Bilbo sputtered after her. "Did you only come to gossip?" He squeaked, flushing.

"Isn't that the only reason I ever go anywhere, dear cousin?" She said with a laugh, before slamming the front door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, just a quick note.
> 
> I got a question about fanart on my Tumblr and yeah I would love to see any fanart you guys have taken time to make! Just be sure to send it to me so that I may swoon over it. :-)


	23. The Morning Winter Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another huge thank you to Anchanee for beta reading! And also to everyone who has left comments, kudos, and has bookmarked! <3

It was late at night when Bilbo heard the front door opening from his armchair in the sitting room. The hobbit had spent most of the day thinking about Thorin. The dwarf was handsome, yes, and Bilbo did acknowledge that his feelings went a little deeper than just friendship ... but Thorin was a guest. The dwarves of Erebor were poor and homeless, and he knew that many of them had resorted to drastic measures in order to just feed their families. He knew that Thorin had been one of them. Bilbo wondered if Thorin could ever trust him enough to see him as a possible partner and not just someone who was after his body. If he could return the feelings. Even with Lobelia's insurance, fear crept into his mind and anxiety chewed at his stomach. 

"Bilbo." Thorin greeted upon stepping into the room. "It's late. Why are you not asleep?"

Bilbo took a moment where he just stared at the dwarf. Thorin’s hair was pulled back out in a sloppy ponytail, and his skin was covered in a thin layer of soot. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes Bilbo had not noticed before. "I, um, wanted to … wanted to talk to you. But it can wait if you would rather retire for the night." He stuttered, mentally cursing himself for being so nervous.

Thorin raised an eyebrow before taking the seat adjacent to the hobbit. When Thorin said nothing Bilbo continued. 

"I don't know if you've been told, but there is a rumour that you and I are ..." Bilbo paused, marring his lower lip between his teeth.

"That we are courting each another?" Thorin responded in a low baritone. "I've been asked about that by several of the hobbit's that had come to the forge."

"The forge?" Bilbo asked around the redness of his cheeks.

The dwarf huffed lightly. "Did you think I have been spending all of my time out drinking?" He asked, the words losing some of their edge when coupled with his exhaustion.

"No." The hobbit assured, shaking his head quickly. "It's just that ... I hadn't thought about where you went off to during the day."

The dwarf yawned into his hand. "Yes. I've reopened the forge since the weather has been well over the past few weeks." A thick silence followed his last words. "About the rumors, Master ... Bilbo, I mean ..."

"Ah, yes!" The hobbit squeaked, hurriedly running a hand through his curls. "I was just wondering if that maybe … I mean that if ... I wanted to know if you were ..."

"I have been telling them that you have no interest in me." Thorin said lowly. "If that is what you wanted to know ... I know that it must be shameful having your neighbours think you to be courting a poor creature from another race."

Bilbo bustled with indignation when he informed his guest.. "Hobbits choose to love without caring for status or race a-and I'm not too sure about dwarves but … but if you'd like I would really …" 

"Unca?" A small voice spoke from the hallway. A sleepy eyed Kìli clutched the doorframe as he swayed on his feet. "Are 'ou back?"

Thorin looked quickly between Bilbo and his nephew with wide eyes. "I should put him to bed, first." He said somewhat dazed. "I'll be back in a second."

Bilbo watched the dwarf as he scooped Kìli up into his arms. The dwarfling nuzzled into his uncle’s neck, yawning loudly.

"It's fine." Bilbo whispered. "I'm sure you're tired as well. You should get some sleep as well. Good Night." He had said before rushing into his room and closing the door before Thorin could object. He threw himself on top of the covers and groaned into his pillow. 'Bilbo Baggins, you imbecile!' He thought.

-/:\\-

Thorin had remained awake most of the night. Although his body begged for rest his mind had him laying beneath a warm quilt for hours after Bilbo had left him in the hallway. He scolded himself for getting work up over what could be nothing. Bilbo wanted to know about the rumors that had surfaced while he was forced to stay at home. He wasn't asking permission to begin a courtship. 

Thorin sighed loudly, he would have to wait until tomorrow to ask Bilbo to finish his inquiry. The forge could remain closed for another day as it had been for many winters.

-/:\\-

Thorin sat, gingerly sipping a warm mug Bilbo wordlessly had placed in front of him, as he had taken a seat at the kitchen table. He leaned back and watched the Hobbit bustle about sink. The morning sun beamed across the floor and signs of an early spring melted what little snow littered the ground.

Bilbo began quietly whistling a simple tune absent minded as he worked, a wet plate in one hand and a towel in the other. He moved with a slight limp which had earned him the nickname 'Mister Gimpy' among Kìli and his newfound hobbitling friends, which Kìli had been eager to tell Thorin about the night before in a sleepy haze.

"Bilbo?" Thorin asked, watching the hobbit tense at the soapy basin. "Last night ... What did you want to know?"

The hobbit laughed nervously, "It was nothing. It completely skipped my mind, actually." He hurriedly busied himself with placing the stack of blue and white plates into the cupboard. Thorin felt himself frown.

"I want to know." Thorin spoke, although a part of him dreaded the hobbit's response.

Bilbo turned towards the dwarf slowly but refused to meet his gaze. "I think that ... I might like you."

A long moment strung behind the hobbit's words, and he feared the bitter pain of rejection before Thorin spoke.

"I think I may be in love with you." Confessed the dwarf, his eyebrows knitted together and he looked just as confused if not more so then Bilbo. 

"Oh ..." Bilbo mumbled, overwhelmed by the confession, suddenly at loss of what he was supposed to do now. 

Abandoning the mug, Thorin stood and closed the gap between them in a few strides.

"Bilbo, may I ... kiss you?" The dwarf asked, his face flush as his glaze fell to Bilbo's lips.

When the hobbit nodded nervously, Thorin leaned forward until his lips meet Bilbo's. Thorin's hands moved up to card through the honey curls as their lips moved together in a soft rhythm. Their lips parted for half a moment before Bilbo was pulling the dwarf closer, kissing him with an obvious lack of experience but almost overwhelming determination. When they parted once more Thorin rested his forehead against the hobbit's, breathing heavily.

"I've ... I've never been kissed like that." Bilbo said, flushing a deeper shade of crimson. "I … I mean I've never been kissed at all but..." He stammered, becoming seemingly more frustrated as he continued.

Thorin chuckled at the hobbit before pecking him once more on the lips to silence the upset stuttering.


	24. Happy Hobbits and Lovestruck Dwarves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait! And as always this chapter wouldn't have happened with Anchanee!

Bilbo shifted uneasily on his feet. Thorin had wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him closer until their chests met.

"I think I may need a smoke." The hobbit mumbled, feeling that voicing his nervousness too loud would break whatever floated in the air between them. 

"May I accompany you?" The dwarf looked eager as he unwound their fingers and allowed the hobbit to slip free. 

Bilbo smiled brightly. " I would be delighted.”

-/:\\- 

A breeze floated over the seemingly endless hills, and the dwarf was mesmerized by the sway of the hobbit's golden curls. 

Thorin, too, had removed a pipe from his inner coat pocket and lightly puffed at it while sitting contently next to Bilbo. They were overlooking the softly swaying grass of the Shire. The only sound to be heard were the children playing in the distance. 

"I do hope Fìli and Kìli don't get sick." Bilbo worried, removing the pipe from his lips to rest it against his knee. "It is still a little cold out, even with the sun up and all." 

Thorin took another long drag and released the smoke in a shapeless puff. "I'm sure they'll be alright." A pause, followed by a soft grin. “Should I be worried about you catching something, Bilbo?" 

"No, no." Bilbo said, when Thorin made a move to remove his fur coat. "You keep that on, you ridiculously sweet oaf." Bilbo smiled at the quite laugh Thorin gave in response. "I'm perfectly fine."

Thorin nodded, although he did not have much faith in the hobbit's word. He did not think that the stubborn hobbit would take an already refused coat when offered again. 

Quietness settled over them again. 

Thorin watched the artistically created smoke rings that float from the hobbit's lips. He still couldn't believe that he had the privilege of meeting those lips. Bilbo's eyes lit up with a child-like joy, when one of the rings flew through the center of its kin. He turned to Thorin, beaming.

"You're staring." He pointed out, the lopsided grin giving away that he didn't overly mind. 

"I never thought that I would get the privilege to have someone that made my heart skip beats. You make me never want to kiss someone else again.” Thorin said, surprising himself by both the words and by how steady his voice sounded, despite the churning sea in his gut. 

Bilbo coughed into his hand, using it as an excuse to turn his flushed face away from the dwarf. 

Thorin allowed the deflection, and took a deep drag from his pipe to allow his hobbit time to collect himself. 

Bilbo straightened himself after a few moments, but still seemed at a loss for words. So the silence returned until the hobbit found his words.

"I used to go off into those woods when I was younger. Spend all day trying to find the elves hiding behind the trees." He laughed quietly at himself, sharing something he had never told anybody but his parents. "Never did find one, but my ma used to swear up and down that if I looked hard enough I'd catch a glimpse of one." The hobbit turned towards Thorin and froze.

The dwarf's gaze had turned hard and his eyebrows were knitted together.

"What's wrong?" Bilbo asked, twisting the pipe nervously in his lap.

"Nothing." The dwarf tried to pacify him.

Bilbo reached out, gently running the pads of his fingers over the dwarf's wrists, and down his hand until he could entwine their fingers. It was barely a whisper when he spoke. "You don't have to tell me anything, if you don’t want to. I know that things were hard for you and the boys in the past, but if you need me I will try my best to help you in any way possible."

Thorin's chest ached as he leaned down to kiss the hobbit. Soft, and grateful.

"Thank you, Bilbo." He murmured against his lips. He peppered a series of tender kiss to lips that tasted of the delicious smoke of the Shire before Bilbo pulled away.

"Thorin..." He breathed. "The kids are..."

"I know." The dwarf sighed. He rubbed his thumb over Bilbo's temple with the hand he hadn't realized he had brought up to card through the hobbit's curls. The gesture, Thorin thought, was horrifically intimate this soon in their relationship. But the way Bilbo nuzzled his cheek into his palm was enough to make him forget his unease.

He didn't think he had the willpower to force himself to look away from the gift in his palm, if he could he would never … a child squealed.

"Unca!" Kìli squealed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Bilbo!"

Thorin turned towards him. Kìli appeared to have become the leader of the pack of hobbitlings, who now were all bunched together behind him, whispering into each other's ears, and giggling into their hands. The dwarfling smiled brightly, seemingly unable to remain still.

"Good morning, Kìli." Thorin smiled 

Kìli opened and closed his mouth, not seeming to find the right words before he simply nodded. "Are you gonna be with Bilbo now, Unca?" He finally said, hope coloring his voice. "Like how Momma said she was with Pa before they got married?"

Thorin hummed thoughtfully, shrugging a single shoulder. "I don't know. If he wishes so."

Kìli turned his expectant gaze towards Bilbo.

"If you'll all have me." Bilbo replied in short, watching the array of emotions that crossed the dwarfling's face, before he threw himself into the hobbit’s arms.

One of the children gasped. "Mister Bilbo, I didn't know you were courting!" Exclaimed a ginger boy, audibly baffled by this development.

Bilbo laughed, and smoothed the mess of hair atop Kìli's head to sooth the dwarf's incoherent muffled ramblings. "Well, it is quite recent, so you'll all be first to spread the gossip."

"Oh, the rumors have been going on for some time now, Mister Baggins." Reported his freckled faced cousin. "Miss Sackville-Baggins has been saying that the pair of you were set to start courting anytime now for weeks!"

"Has she now?" Bilbo rose an eyebrow, feeling the tinge of annoyance at Lobelia's constant meddling. He turned towards Thorin who stared down at the pebbled path, not meeting his gaze. "You knew!" Bilbo squawked, and Thorin shrugged, slightly uneasy. 

The hobbit tapped the pipe against his knee. "And none of you ever thought to let me in on this?" He huffed, standing up with a creak of the bench, to lead them all back inside for a pre-elevenses snack.

"I'm not going to admit she was right." He whispered under his breath barely audible for his audience to hear, and the few hobbitlings nearest giggled. 

The walk through the door was slow, and the still brisk air was enjoyable, but Bilbo felt warmth rush through him when a warm, rough hand grasped his own. He might not admit that Lobelia had been right, but he would enjoy the outcome of her meddling nevertheless.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to drop me a line in the comments, or on my Tumblr: http://deducing-at-warp-speed.tumblr.com/ Tell me what you think, how you want the story to go, any and all suggestions are welcome, and anon is always open.


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